A Second Chance At Life
by vanillathunder215
Summary: When a boy left for dead gets a second chance at life, can he inadvertantly help Nick with his own problems? And can Nick make sure that they both will make it through? nickcentric COMPLETE! reviews always welcome! rating change due to graphic nature
1. A private hell

It was dark inside his locked room, too dark for any comfort. But he couldn't get up to turn on the light; couldn't move at all from the bed that he was chained to like a dog to a kennel.

Literally like a dog. He was connected to it by a thick leather collar fastened to a stout chain. His hands were tied together and to his ankles so he had no hope of reaching up to untie the collar. God, how he hated it! He burned with humiliation and resentment that grew with each passing second he was forced to put up with its restraints.

Actually he could move from the bed, but not by much. He could move to either side for a few feet (closest to the head-board) but not to the end of the bed. His entire world was this old bed and a few feet of dirty wood floor in a dusty room.

He shivered with cold. A weird thing for being in a desert region, but the night cooled considerably. A thin ragged blanket that didn't even cover his body did nothing to protect against the night chilled air of the desert. Even less so since all he wore was a pair of boxers. He pulled his knees up to his bare chest and rocked back and forth. At least it was slightly better than the near suffocating heat during the day.

His ankles hurt from the chaffing of the cuffs, his wrists also. But his neck was the worst. It hadn't been adjusted as he had grown over the past… weeks? Months? He had lost track of time. The chaffing was so bad he could barely move his head. Lately it had gotten worse, to the point that he nearly cried at every movement. He guessed that, while he hadn't gained any weight, his neck had thickened beyond the allowance of the collar, digging into his neck. It hurt to even swallow, or breathe deeply.

But he never let THEM know about it. When he was allowed to move beyond his little world allowed by the chain, he never let on to any discomfort. He simply refused to give THEM any satisfaction.

But his resolve was starting to fade. He couldn't live like this…not for much longer anyway. He needed to get out somehow, or get help in someway. Once, a long while ago, he could have fought back…given THEM more than just a little hell. But time and deplorable conditions had made his once powerful body wither. He had lost weight, lost a lot of his good youthful health. He had lost a lot more than that too.

He gritted his teeth as he thought of it. God NO! No tears, no tears, NO TEARS! His mind screamed in anguish. Oh GOD! Get him OUT of here!!

Spurred on by the sudden anxiety attack, he bent himself nearly in half and, despite the pain, began to pull at the collar with his fingertips. He bit his lip until it bled, but he didn't stop, at least, not until he heard the sound of the lock opening on the door.

No! No, not now! He had been alone, mercifully, for nearly a week now. He didn't want…just couldn't…

He tasted the coppery taste of blood in his mouth, mixed with his salty tears. Could feel the tracks they made on his face as they dried. He could feel his heart pounding in his chest, his breath catching in panic in his throat. The sour taste of bile leaped into his mouth. His entire body tightened.

He nearly cried as the door opened.


	2. Domestic Disturbance

Nick Stokes stretched and yawned over a pile of paperwork in the break room. It was a slow night, only one case which Sara and Catherine quickly snatched. He was trying to catch up on his paperwork. Now he knew why Grissom never did his on time; it was exhaustingly boring.

Across the table Warrick shook his head at his best friend and turned to his own pile of papers. Loud music blaring from the headphones on Greg's head next to him told him that the younger CSI wasn't fully paying attention to his much smaller pile, nor did he seem to want to.

Both men were glad to see Greg show some of his old self. They missed the former lab tech's funky hairstyles and the loud punk coming from the lab. He had turned serious and quiet, an occupational hazard of a CSI, and after the Demitrius James incident, he was even quieter. This was a flash of his old self, quite comforting to both Nick and Warrick.

But the quite was not to be for very long. This was Las Vegas after all, the city that never sleeps. Maybe it was sleep deprivation that made the people homicidal sometimes. Or maybe it was another reason. One never knew.

Just then Capt. Brass stuck his head inside the room.

"Hey guys, we had a call come in. Disturbance out on Oak and Richardson."

"Why do you need us for a domestic call?" Nick asked, frowning. Normally they were called only after the police had visited and a DB was found. Rarely were they called before hand.

"Because neighbors said they heard screaming coming from the house. And not husband vs. wife shouting match screaming. They said it sounded like a monkey being tortured. I thought to bring you guys along just in case we have a DB, also because it's a slow night and you might like a diversion."

"Sure, not a problem." Warrick answered, smiling, "It's getting pretty damn boring." He glanced around at all the papers spreading over the table, "Now I know why Grissom puts it off forever."

Brass smiled ruefully, "Hey, it's not my proficiency tests sitting on his desk."

"WHAT?!" all three men jumped and turned quickly to face the captain.

"I'm kidding; Catherine and Ecklie made certain those went in on time. I'll see you at the scene." He turned and left.

"Better not have forgotten those damn papers. Got us all in trouble last time he forgot." Warrick muttered darkly as they began to follow the captain out the door.

"Hey can I drive?" Greg piped up suddenly. He knew the answer to that but had to ask anyway.

"No." came the quick unison answer from both Nick and Warrick.

About 10 minutes later, all 3 men had gathered up their kits and were heading out to 14987 Oak St. The ride there was quiet, each male in the car hoped that, while this was good diversion from working on boring paperwork, finding a dead body could be worse. Especially if the person had died over something extremely petty like the husband hogging the remote control. Oh how they hoped that their services wouldn't be needed.

Warrick kept a close eye on Nick as he drove. Nick had his head resting against the window, his eyes closed. He had no clue what was going on in his friend's head. He had always suspected that Nick never fully got over his trip to hell in a box. He couldn't confront Nick outright; he would deny it and insist he was fine. Fine. Warrick had come to hate that word. People only used it when they were only trying to get someone to leave them alone, never as sincerity.

Nick felt Warrick's eyes keep glancing over him. Each time it grinded his nerves even deeper, for some reason. He knew that his friends were concerned for him and that he was steadily alarming them, but he didn't care at the moment. Ever since he had had that clash with Warrick when Greg got hurt, his dreams had been haunted again by all his old misadventures. Like a good wine, they had gotten "better" with age, blurring the line of what actually happened with what ever his terror and imagination would come up with. He just wanted it all to stop and his friend's over anxious concern wasn't helping him in the slightest.

Their hopes of a clean domestic call were quickly dashed when they drew near the crime scene. Blue and red lights flashed on their faces from the numerous patrol cars parked haphazardly in the street. Cops were milling all over the place; taking statements from neighbors, putting up crime scene tape around the small house and keeping curious people at bay.

They got out of the car, kits in hand, and went over to the nearest uniform standing by the tape. Nick vaguely recognized him but not enough to know his name. However, he nodded as they approached.

"Don't know all the details." He said, "But the Capt. will fill you in. Sorry, but your night just officially got busy."

"Damn, thanks though, Derrick." Warrick mumbled.

"Hope there were no kids involved." Nick said as they walked towards the house, wincing as soon as the words were out of his mouth. What the heck made him blurt that out?

Warrick glanced over at his friend. It was utterly typical for Nick to worry about that, but no one had said anything about a child involved. For his sake, and any possible child's, Warrick also hoped that there wasn't one.

The house seemed relatively nice. The paint was a little worn and the curtains in the windows yellowed. Weeds struggled to grow in the ill-kept yard but who wants to do yard work in the middle of a Las Vegas heat wave? Overall, the house had a quaint air about it.

Brass was waiting for them at the door.

"You guys ain't gonna like this." He said as a way of a greeting and led the way up the narrow staircase.

While small and quaint on the outside, the house was dirty and messy on the inside. It was obvious no one had dusted or vacuumed in what seemed months, cobwebs and other debris littered corners. Old newspapers, overdue bills and other trash covered every surface and the house had a moldy feel. It smelled strongly like mildew. The yellowed curtains they had seen from the outside were worse on the inside. Once upon a time they had been white but sun and filth stained them yellow and splotchy brown.

All three CSIs made mental notes as they went along, every piece of trash memorized and rooms noted. Nick especially focused on his surroundings till they got to the enclosed part of the stairs, when he focused on Warrick's back. Those stairs were too narrow for his liking.

A cop stood by a small doorway at the end of the narrow hall. By the way he was standing as far away from the door as possible, they could tell that what the room held was going to be bad.

The first thing Nick noticed was the lock on the _outside_ of the door. He frowned at it, knowing that doors like these never held good news. Fortunately, this one didn't have scratches on the inside as if the occupant had tried to get out. People stepped aside slowly, making way for the three CSIs.

"Oh good God." Nick breathed when he saw the body.

A teenage boy, around 16 or 17, was lying on the bed. His body was covered in dried blood, his limbs askew. He was mostly naked except for his boxers which were heavily stained with blood. What was most disturbing to Nick was the collar around the boy's neck. It chained him to the bed.

A nauseating mixture of emotions welled up inside Nick. Rage at the boy's killer, sadness for a life cut so short and the pain of his own past. Anxious awareness at what might have happened here. Fully aware of Warrick and Brass' anxious eyes on him, he went resolutely up to the body.

"Where's Super Dave?" he managed to ask, trying not to let his feeling be heard.

"Not here yet. Catherine and Sara apparently have him backed up on their case."

Nick grunted in response and turned back to the body. He wasn't allowed to touch him yet, not until the coroner arrived, but he could take pictures and process everything else. He pulled out his camera and raised it up. As the flash went off, he noticed the eyelids move.

Alarm shot through him as he thought,

Dead men don't move.

Nick stared at the body for a few moments. Nothing. Did he imagine that or was…? He noticed Greg shooting a worried look his way and went back to work. There was no way he was giving these guys any reason to believe that he couldn't do his work. Not again.

"No ID or anything. Neighbors have no idea who he is. No one has ever seen this kid before." Brass was saying, "But it looks like he's been here awhile, judging by the way that collar is around his neck. I've never seen anything like this before."

Nick looked closer at the boy's body. He was skinny, his ribs standing out clearly on his torso, his hip bones pushing the top of his boxers. Nick couldn't see what might have killed him, but he didn't need a lot of imagination what they might have done to him. On closer inspection he saw that the chain went behind the bed to the wall. Maybe the boy could have been able to move, at least a little.

Warrick was talking about starting downstairs and working their way up, probably trying to find a way to keep Nick out of this room but Nick was barely paying attention. He had noticed a small cut on the boy's side. It wasn't the nature of the cut that got his attention but what it was doing.

It was still bleeding.

Now post-mortem muscle spasms are one thing, but bleeding…

Quickly Nick pulled out his flashlight. He was no medic, but he knew that if the eyes responded to light then he was still alive. Ignoring Warrick's startled question, He pulled up one of the boy's eyelids and shined the light over the eye.

The teenage jerked suddenly, pulling his head away from the offending light. Everyone was frozen for a moment, stunned at what they saw; a supposedly dead body coming back to life.

"Somebody get the paramedics!" Nick roared, shaking off his shock, then in a gentler voice began to try and calm the boy down, who now was shaking with cold and fear, "Hey, its all right, its over. Its over, you're getting out of this hell, it's all right." He repeated that mantra over and over again.

"Jus-s-s-t g-g-get m-m-me outta he-he-ere." A weak voice chattered.

"Don't worry, that's soon. What's your name?" Nick asked, trying to divert the boy's attention from the collar that his cut and raw fingers were clawing at.

"Beck." Came the reply. He hesitated then, turning his scared blue eyes to Nick he managed to stutter out, "The ch-ch-chain is on the w-w-wall."

Nick saw how a heavy chain ran from the collar to somewhere behind the bed. Taking a chance and moving away a few feet to look for the end, he saw that it was welded onto the wall. Someone really wanted him to stay here. Nick thought. Disgust made his belly roll uncomfortably again.

"Hey! Get some bolt cutters! We need to get this chain off him!" he leaned closer to Warrick who had come closer to get a better look, "That collar is digging deep into his neck. I don't think we can get it off here. Poor kid's too freaked to stay here any longer."

Warrick nodded and bolted out the door. He always kept bolt cutters in his truck in case of emergency.

Paramedics squeezed by him on the stairs. They had responded to the call initially and were just getting ready to leave when they heard about a DB. Knowing they had a few minutes before pronouncing (everyone thought the boy was dead) they took their time. Now they ran.

Pushing people aside, they bolted into the room, scaring Beck again. Despite his injuries, he struggled violently, pulling at his collar and deepening the cuts.

Seeing how he was nearing decapitating his own head, Nick tried to calm him again. At first Beck ignored him, lost in his panic, but slowly Nick managed to break through the red fog. It was the first time in a long time that Beck had heard something other than a drunken curse or cussing. He began to listen. He calmed down slightly and stared at Nick, his blue eyes to the Texan's brown ones. He kept them fixed there; even when the paramedics began to move him around, even when Warrick came running back into the room with the bolt cutters, his gaze never wavered.

A loud clank announced the boy free from the wall. He was gently moved onto a backboard and moved out of the room. Nick, on a sudden impulse, ran after them.

The teen relaxed again when he saw Nick approach. He didn't have to say anything. The paramedics knew that the boy probably wouldn't relax unless Nick came too.

Nick glanced back at Brass. He nodded and motioned with his hand to go. Nick jumped in and then they were off, sirens blaring.

Capt. Brass sighed as he watched them go. He was relived that the boy wasn't dead, but he was absolutely furious over the conditions they found him in. No one should have to go through this, least of all a child, even a teen. Warrick stood in the doorway.

"Don't say it." Brass stopped him as Warrick opened his mouth, "Let him do it. God knows…maybe these 2 can help each other out."

Warrick nodded slowly. Whatever was going to happen, however the outcome, he prayed that it would be good for both of them.


	3. Lost and Found

Author' note; Hey thanks for all the reviews! I promise I'm not a silent person; I've just been so caught up in writing this! This is my first CSI fic. and I'm really excited about it. I'm doing my best to make this good and if it is I might even make a sequel. Any and all reviews appreciated!! –vanillathunder215

Back at the house of horrors, Warrick and Greg began to pick through the debris. All of the cops had left except Brass and one who stood outside, unwilling to go in. Not that anyone blamed him.

"Exactly what are we looking for?" Greg asking after about an hour of searching for nothing.

Warrick sighed, "We don't know what happened to this kid, but we have a pretty good idea. Until Nick calls or something, we do what we normally do; search for evidence. Also, since we only know the kid's name is Beck, search for something on him and the owners of this dump. Com'on Greg, you've been doing this longer than that."

"Never seen something like that." He mumbled under his breath.

Warrick heard him, but didn't say anything. He was worried about Nick. He had seen Nick's eyes when he first saw the victim. Part of him was relieved that Nick was out of this house, away from whatever horrific evidence they might find, but another part of him was anxious. Nick would find out exactly what happened and maybe even a detailed account from the vic. himself. That could end up worse than trying to figure out what happened based on what they had.

Greg mumbled something about going downstairs and looking around and left. Warrick looked around the blank little room that had been a young teen's hell for God knew how long. He honestly did not want to know what dirty secrets this room might hold. But this was his job… he had to do it. For Beck's sake.

With a sick, heavy feeling in his chest, Warrick pulled the ALS and turned off the lights.

"Good God." He breathed.

Meanwhile;

After such a long period of solitary confinement the lights and sounds and movement and people were completely overloading Beck's senses. He had turned to Nick, whom he had now come to trust, and was gripping his hand like it was a lifeline. Every time the sirens wail crescendo or the ambulance bumped on the road, he gripped Nick's hand tighter.

Nick winced slightly as the teen's grip threatened to break his fingers. Somehow he managed to twist his hand around so he was gripping Beck's hand back, easing the pressure a little. Despite the bumping and rattling, he could feel Beck shaking still.

They had done virtually all that was possible to make Beck more comfortable. A blanket covered his beaten body, more to help calm him as to help with shock. Only 1 EMT stayed back there with him. He had flipped out when the other one had also come in there. It had been just too much for him.

Nick, meanwhile, battled to keep his own demons at bay. He also knew the fear; too many people, too many lights, too much noise. He remembered just wanting to curl up in a dark quiet corner and sleeping to wake and find it all a bad dream. He also knew the boy's want and need for someone, anyone comforting and familiar, to be nearby. To be able to touch them and reassure himself that he was indeed alive and would be ok.

Nick's stomach flip-flopped uncomfortably again. Age and appearance aside, Beck reminded Nick so much of himself…too much.

The EMT moved closer to the doors, signaling to Nick that they were almost to the hospital. Beck, inconveniently observant, noticed and tensed again, knowing more confusion was going to follow. The doors flew open, taking him by surprise, and immediately followed by people running around and shouting. Terrified, he redoubled his grip on Nick's hand, literally forcing the man to come along. His other hand gripped the side of the gurney, his broken nails tearing into the fabric.

Unable to pull his hand away, much to the head doctor's annoyance, Nick went along with them. He had been in the hospital way too many times and had never been quite comfortable in one since. However, this time was different.

Once in the ER room, even more doctors and nurses swarmed around the now petrified teen. Nick was about to say that maybe this wasn't a good idea; that Beck was way too nervous for this many people around him, too much light, too much noise. But no one heard him and the doctors milled around him. One reached out and touched the collar. Just as Nick knew would happen, Beck snapped.

Despite pain and fear, Beck let go of Nick's hand and began to fight with everything he had. Everyone immediately backed off, but just as quickly moved back in to subdue the teen. Beck, with blood streaming from his neck, fought back again. He managed to kick a tray with a lot of instruments on it, sending it flying. Nurses couldn't even get near him with a needle. Nick was sure that Beck was going to hurt himself again.

"STOP!"

It was one of those one word commands that left no room arguments or excuses, one that expected to be obeyed without having to say anything else or to be repeated. Everyone did stop, even Beck, who slumped back, exhausted.

"Everyone out, except Lisa. No, you can stay, CSI." The tall woman who had stopped everyone in the first place noticed him start to move. "I want everyone out of here, now. Chris, dim the lights a little on your way out."

No one seemed inclined to disobey her and filed out quickly, one, presumably Chris, dimmed the lights and scurried out with his colleagues. Once they had left, her face softened and she went quickly to the panting Beck. She turned the bright light away from his face and quickly looked over his exposed body.

"Oh goodness Beck…trouble just follows you everywhere doesn't it?" she asked gently.

Beck didn't answer. Just sucked in air desperately and watched, not her, but the small nurse behind her.

"Lisa, let's get some air on him before he hyperventilates himself to death. Hey…Stokes, come over here. You're familiar enough to him to help calm him down some." She checked his vest quickly to get his name.

Nick obligingly went up and took Beck's hand when he reached for it. He looked over at the wonder woman who had stopped the chaos.

Nick's first shock was that she was young. No more than 32 years old. Nick had been expecting an older woman by the way she had ordered everyone around. But she was beautiful, even in the dim light Nick could see her face clearly; flawless skin with deep blue eyes on her heart shaped face. Her long dark blonde hair was tied back in a ponytail. She was tall and athletic. Nick noticed there was no ring on her left hand.

"Ok, you be quiet now, sweetie." She was saying softly to Beck as her hands gently inspected his body. Nick didn't say anything, partly because he was too infatuated with this woman to trust himself to speak and on the other he didn't want to upset Beck again.

He didn't need to worry as the nurse, Lisa, quietly slipped up next to Beck and slid the needle into his arm. He didn't seem to notice as she injected a sedative into the I.V. Nick watched as she went about getting other tubes and monitors and such ready, flinching as she pulled out one particular tube and moved towards Beck's lower body. Beck, calm and sleepy under the influence of the sedative, gave no indication he knew about it. His limp hand slid from Nick's as he let himself go with the sedative.

The pretty doctor, positive that Beck was out, began to work on the embedded collar around Beck's neck. Taking a scalpel she sliced through the thick leather and began to peel it away. Nick took one look at the flesh underneath it and recoiled violently.

"He's out of it now; you don't need to stay in here. Go, before you get sick. I'll find you later." Nick looked up into those commanding blue eyes and left. He almost ran…almost.

The ambulance bay was deserted, which was what Nick wanted. He paced around for a little while, his hands behind his head, taking deep breaths. But the night's events and the memory of Beck's neck made his stomach finally revolt. Nick turned and ran for the trash can by the doors to the ER, throwing up violently before he even got there. He could not get the vision of the poor boy's neck out of his mind. He had seen a lot of dead bodies, a lot of disgusting ones too. He was used to it and used to the smell. But he couldn't get the smell of the gangrenous flesh out of his nose.

"Yeah…ok, sure…Fine, hey you doing all right? You sound a bit woozy. Hey, I was just asking…Yeah, I'll be there in a few minutes. Bye." Brass hung up his cell phone and went back inside to look for Warrick.

He found the lanky CSI conferring with Greg in the living room. Or what could be called a "living" room. Warrick broke off his conversation as soon as he saw the captain come in.

"I was just talking to Nick. He wanted me to bring his kit and stuff to him seeing as he has no way back and you two are busy here. He said he would process the kid if you guys could get stuff here and he would meet you back at the lab later."

Warrick stared at him in shock. There was no way… "Brass, are you kidding? Don't be pulling a Grissom on me now. Nick processing the kid…? You know that's as dangerous as letting Sara pull a solo on a beaten woman. Are you sure you want to do that to Nick?"

"Hey, listen. Nick has gotten this tick for whenever kids are involved. I don't know why, it might be because he's from a large family or whatever. But he has made this his personal mission right now. I am NOT going to tell him no. It would probably do him more harm than good right now. He's a grown man. Let him make his own decision, Warrick."

Warrick crossed his arms and narrowed his green eyes a little. He knew that there would probably be no way to change the stubborn Texan's mind once he got set on something. But he still wanted to clear something, "Can you at least hang around there? Make sure Nick doesn't…"

"Do something he might regret or get in trouble? Sure." Brass finished for him. Warrick's shoulders relaxed a little and he nodded. Next to him, Greg finally let out the breath he had been holding.

After the captain had left with Nick's kit, the 2 male CSIs turned back to work. It was very slow going, the house yielding little to no evidence. Warrick had gotten the most out of the room upstairs, but no fingerprints or hairs or fibers or anything that could have been used on the vic beyond the chain and collar. The mess of the house had proved to be in the suspects favor. It hid evidence and destroyed any prospects of fingerprints on surfaces. Both men had truly come to appreciate a bottle of Mr. Clean.

The only really prospective piece of evidence they had found was a safe in the master bedroom closet. But it was one of those floor safes that are bolted to the floor from the inside. They had to wait until a locksmith could come and open it for them.

Warrick went back upstairs for one last look around while Greg took what little evidence they had back to the car. He went into a spare room at the other end of the hall from the vic's room. Of all the rooms in this house, this one was the best of them. It was somewhat cleaner than the others and seemingly untouched. But Warrick knew that that didn't mean that it wasn't involved in any way with the crime.

He was proved right when he found one small drop of blood on the dusty bedspread. It could very well be the boy's but from what Warrick had seen, he could have fought back and this was the suspect's blood. He bagged a sample and continued on. He truly hit the jackpot in the closet. For the first time all night he smiled as looked at the pile of dirty laundry, neatly topped with socks and a pair of underwear.

Nick was still outside in the ambulance bay, sitting on the curb with his head in his hands. He was nursing a massive headache and an even nastier stomach ache, but he didn't want to leave…not yet. A shadow fell across him. He glanced up

"Hiya!" came a familiar female voice. The tall female doctor from earlier sat down next to him and handed him a Dr. Pepper. A small part of him noted the mostly Texan choice of drink. "You liked pretty bad earlier, so drink up." Once again he had no inclination to disobey her. He mumbled his thanks as he sipped at it.

"How's Beck doing?"

"He's still out of it, but I think he'll be ok…physically anyway. I have no idea how he'll be psychologically. That part is up to him." They both fell silent, staring at the pavement. "You still need to process him right?"

"Yeah. Think he'll be up to it?"

"Yeah, just make sure he's awake. He prefers to watch what's going on around him…it makes him feel more secure." Nick wondered how she knew so much about him. It just seemed too impossible that she would be able to know him… and yet…

"OH! By the way, my name is Alisha Dryden. Call me Ali." She stuck out her hand. "Nick Stokes." He shook her hand, feeling the strong grip. He was becoming more and more infatuated by her the more he saw her. But he had to ask one thing.

"Dr. Pepper?" he asked, holding up the can.

"Oh good God!" she exclaimed, throwing her hands up, "What is wrong with you Nevada people? When I got here a few months ago I thought that there was sure to be at least Coke around here! But no! No Coke, no root beer, no cream soda or Dr. Pepper. Even less BBQ! God how I would kill for a good steak!"

Now it all came clear. As she lamented, a certain accent came out in her voice. Familiar and beloved to Nick. "You're from Texas, aren't you?"

"Born, bred and raised Texan. I'm from Houston."

"Dallas…well, the Dallas area. I don't think anything is actually called Dallas anymore. And Waco is one of my favorites."

"I figured. I heard your accent or I wouldn't have spent the time searching for a DP." She smiled then, revealing a mouth of even white teeth.

"Good God and I thought Las Vegas only had room for one hard headed Texan… now we have two!" Both Texans jumped and looked up to see Brass watching them, amused. "Well, now you both have someone to talk to about home, but shouldn't you be getting on with your jobs?"

They smiled sheepishly and got up. Nick smiled a quick appreciation as he took his kit from Brass and they followed Alisha back inside and through the maze of hospital halls and rooms. Nick quickly became lost, used to being a patient and stuck in a room instead of having to find it.

"He's still out, but he'll come around soon. I can turn the lights up a bit… I don't know how he'll react to a flash." She leaned against the door frame and motioned them in.

Beck was asleep; the first time Nick and Brass had ever seen him look calm. His neck and wrists were lightly wrapped with gauze and there was a neat row of stitches on his forehead and on his chest disappearing below the blanket. Nick turned to Alisha. He had one last burning question to ask her.

"The way you talk about Beck, it seems like you know him. Do you and how?"


	4. Reawakening

Warrick and Greg hauled all the bags that contained the clothes that Warrick had gotten from the closet down the hall of the lab and into Wendy's domain. Once there they dumped all it on her desk.

She looked up at them slowly, her mouth open and her eyes wide with shock.

"For what do I need to apologize for?" She asked breathlessly, "I mean, good God, I'll be here for years if you expect me to go through all this!"

"Special delivery from a case Nick has taken personal interest in." Warrick smiled. It wouldn't do any good to annoy her now.

"A kid involved huh?" Warrick nodded. "Well… since it's for you guys…and a kid. Ok, but don't expect anything really quick unless it's on top." She sighed, looking at the enormous pile. "By the way, how is Nick doing with this?"

"I dunno, he took off. The kid is still alive, though," Warrick added, seeing her confused look, "Nick went to the hospital to process him."

Wendy gave a look that reflected how Warrick felt. He hoped that Catherine never learned of this…at least while the case was still open and Nick was working on it.

After dropping off the blood and fluid samples off at DNA, Warrick went to the break room to look over his notes and wait for Nick and Brass to return. Greg was already in there, staring blank eyed over the papers and pictures.

"Part of me doesn't want to know." He mumbled. Warrick looked up, he felt the same way and let the younger man continue. "I mean, I know it's our job to find out what happened and fry the bad guy for doing it but…this is…I dunno."

"The bastard that did this was sick. Plain pure and simple sick." Warrick stated, making sure Greg looked at him as he said it. "We feel bad looking at it from the outside, but that kid, Beck, he had to _live_ with it for who knows how long? We're doing this for him, if not for Nick." He added in an undertone. "We are also doing this to put this sick son of a bitch behind bars for the rest of his miserable life."

Greg nodded, still a little gloomy but now determined to get the man. "Let's just hope Catherine nor Sara ever find out about this. They would have a field day."

"Find out what? What would we flip out over?"

Both men jumped as Catherine leaned against the door, her arms crossed but she smiled. Sara looked over her shoulder.

"Just where we left you. Where's Nick?"

"Uhhh…We actually got called out to a case. Nick's still processing." Greg said slowly.

Before either Greg or Warrick could move them, Catherine came over and looked at the crime scene pictures. Both held their breath as she looked them over, her face going from curiosity to astonishment to horror. She held up a picture and turned to the men, who almost felt like looking at the floor sheepishly.

"What the hell happened?" quietly Warrick filled her in, trying to avoid mentioning Nick's involvement in it. But Catherine didn't get to her position by being oblivious.

"And so Nick is where? I'll assume he's not at this house."

"He went with the kid to the hospital. He's still there now, but Brass is with him!" Warrick added really fast seeing Catherine's face. "Look, I'm worried about him too but you know as well as I do that you won't be able to change his mind. Look, Brass had a point. Maybe…just maybe this kid and Nick can help each other fight their own demons."

Catherine didn't say anything for a moment. Then Greg jumped to the rescue.

"Hey, Cath, don't worry about him. He's got us to make sure he doesn't take a dive into the deep end, Brass too. He seemed all right when he left…he'll be all right."

Maybe it was Greg's tone of voice, or maybe the pleading look in his eye, or even the logic in his words. Whatever it was, Catherine reluctantly agreed to let them keep going and to busy herself, and Sara, with their own case. She had only one more question.

"What about Grissom?"

"What about him? He's off at his bug convention. Don't make him worry about this. It might distract him from the cockroach races."

She nodded and left, taking Sara with her. Warrick watched them round the corner then turned to Greg.

"Dude... seriously nice catch. I got choked up there for a minute." Greg just smiled and gestured to the pile of notes.

"Shall we catch ourselves a pervert?"

Alisha settled herself gracefully onto the counter in the corner, thinking about her answer. She looked up at the ceiling, wondering just how much to tell these men. Finally she looked back at them and motioned for them to sit.

"It's a long story so get comfortable." She took a deep breath then started.

"I first met Beck about 2 years ago, back home in Houston. I was just getting into my residency in the ER but I was doing some triage work at the time as well. He came in with a glorious looking rash that turned out to be a nasty case of Poison Ivy. I remember that he didn't seem to trust anyone nor seemed particularly settled with the lady who brought him in. I was kind of suspicious because I had been getting a lot of abused kids at that time. The lady saw that, I guess, and she took me outside the room and told me a little of his story.

He's an orphan, his parents had been dead for about 3 years now and he had been shuffled around from foster home to foster home for the whole time. Texas was the 5th state he had been to. As a result, he fully believed that no one wanted him, or cared for him. As a 15 year old, his mind was pretty much made up and set in stone.

After the lady kept him there for about 6 months he began to calm down a little. He ended up becoming best friends with my younger brother and sister, who are a few months younger than him, and my best friend's younger brother, who is the same age as he is. They worked wonders on him and he totally changed personalities almost over night.

He began to actually smile and trust people. He started to pass school and he actually became pleasant to be around. He never picked fights before, but had a temper. Afterwards he rarely showed it again, fighting only for his friends and what he believed in. As I said, total change from the suspicious boy I had first met.

He gained weight and grew a few inches. All in all, he was in great shape and really healthy; nothing like this.

But a few months ago, the old lady he was fostered with died and he was going to be sent here. Since he's almost 18, he said he would come back as soon as possible to graduate with his class. He never said who was going to take him. He never told me much, nor seemed happy about the whole thing, but I put that down as not wanting to leave the new life he had established there. After he left and I was getting ready to leave, his best friend, Chase, asked me to look for him. Apparently he couldn't get hold of him and Chase wanted to know what was up.

Time kind of slipped away from me in the heat of work and moving. I never got the chance to look up until earlier when Lisa ran up to me and told me that they had a patient raising hell in the ER. I nearly had a heart attack when I saw him."

Alisha fell silent as she looked over at the sleeping teen, at the cuts and injuries that shouldn't be there. Nick and Brass were silent for a moment, the story sinking in. Brass broke the silence. Being a cop, he knew that they had to stay focused.

"So you never knew exactly where he went and who had him?"

"No. He never said and I couldn't just call and ask. Something about if I wasn't a prospective adopting parent I can't know…should've lied."

"Anyone you know would want to so this?"

"No, not here and not back home. He never said anything about problems anywhere else, but as I said… if he had a fault it was not trusting people too much. He had his problems but he was getting his life back in order."

"How long do you think that collar has been around his neck?"

"That I can give you at least. When I last saw him, he was around 159 lbs. and about 5'9". I'm guessing he's a heck of a lot less in weight but about 5'11". 2 inches in 3 months is a lot to grow. Like all males his neck will thicken as he grows and, if it had been on tight to begin with, he grew enough to make it that bad."

"So it was on for about 3 months?"

"Give or take, yeah."

"What exactly are his injuries?"

"I thought you guys would never ask. Besides the obvious shock and exposure, he has a severe infection from that hideous neck wound and from his wrists. A knock to the head by something blunt, giving him a mild concussion, and some bad cuts, one deep one on his side. All the blood on him was just accumulated from all the smaller cuts over time, making it seem worse than it actually was. However…I don't think I need to tell you that there is evidence of sexual assault. That I already got for you, spare you that part. I can tell you more later when his blood work gets back."

"All right, Nick here needs to process Beck."

"I already told him that that's fine but to wait till Beck wakes up. He's more comfortable if he can watch what's going on. It's a quirk of his, but please be lenient with this…he's been through a hell of a lot more than anyone should ever imagine."

Both were inclined to agree and, while Nick got his stuff ready so it would make the process go faster, Alisha and Brass talked quietly in the corner. Nick's stomach had settled somewhat over the past few minutes. As Ali had told about Beck having a good spot in his life, with great friends and everything, Nick felt better. He had been worried that this was all Beck had ever known. He had a better chance at life now that he had something to go back to.

Suddenly Beck let out a small moan, making all three adults look up. Beck moved his head from side to side, his eyelids moving. Finally he opened them. Living up to Alisha's story, he gave them all a small smile, though it didn't have much humor behind it.

"Hey you." Alisha smiled, giving his toes an affection tug through the blanket, "Glad to see you decided to join us."

Beck's smile got broader as a response. His neck and throat were too sore for him to want to talk. He didn't need to talk really. He knew the drill. The CSIs had to look him over, or process him. He was relieved that Alisha was there; she remembered his little quirk. Also, she had let the guy he had come to trust a little do it. He didn't think he could stand much more after today.

"Hey, Beck. I'm just going to take some samples and a few pictures, ok?" Nick said easily. He had no idea how Beck would respond to the process of collection but he seemed willing enough. After Beck nodded his consent, Nick went straight for the nails. From what he had seen and heard, Beck was a fighter and undoubtedly gave his tormentors a few injuries to worry about. He went through the usual rounds and then went to get his camera.

The calmness in his belly was quickly chased away by the nausea again as Alisha helped him get pictures of Beck's injuries. Beck had solved everyone's worry about the flash by closing his eye tight when he saw the camera come out, becoming conveniently observant now. Nick had saved Beck's neck for last, fumbling with his camera to give himself a few extra seconds.

He didn't notice Alisha slid her hand into her pocket and pull out her cell phone and dial. Beck, who had opened one eye to see if they were done, watched her. Her eyes on Nick, she hit send. Just like Beck expected, Nick's cell phone went off.

Nick mumbled a quick, slightly annoyed curse and pulled out his phone. Too late he remembered that the screen of his phone was broken, a souvenir of an errant basketball during a game with Warrick last week. He couldn't read the name of the caller.

"Hey, Nicky, give me the camera. It might be Grissom and you don't want to miss that call just now; his bugs came in last. I can finish this up." Brass shooed him out. Beck smiled to himself. So they both were in on it. He thought he heard them talking in the corner while he pretended to be asleep.

Nick murmured a quick thanks and, secretly relived, went out of the room to answer his insistent phone. To his utter annoyance, his phone had either dropped the call or the caller had given up. Even more so, he didn't know the caller. Perfect time for a hang-up, he grumbled as he went back into the room. Brass had finished and handed Nick the camera, a slight smile on his face.

Totally oblivious to the pleased smirk that went around the room, he put all his equipment away.

"I'll be back later; I got to get all this stuff to the lab." Nick told Beck and Alisha, to Beck specifically he added, "Don't do anything I would do here." Beck gave him the first actual grin he had given for months. With a smile and a nod, both Brass and Nick left.

Beck waited till he judged they were well out of earshot then turned to Alisha who was still watching the last spot Nick had disappeared from.

"I like him; he's the first cop to not treat me like I'm a delinquent. Hey, Ali, from what I've seen, you like him too. Am I right?" Alisha smiled in response.

author's note; Hey thanks for all the awesome reviews that you guys have sent in… makes me want to write more and get stuff out quicker! Sorry if this chapter seems a little rambling, I got about 6 ideas attacking my mind all at once. Future chapters will be a bit more streamlined, I promise!

-vanillathunder215


	5. The Hard Way

Nick was silent the whole car ride back to the lab. He didn't seem to notice Brass shooting him looks every now and then, nor the small smile that played with the older man's mouth. Indeed, his entire mind was devoted solely to two people… one troubled teen and a beautiful doctor.

He went as if in a dream through the lab, dropping samples off and managed to get to the break room without running into anyone. He barely acknowledged Warrick and Greg, who exchanged looks. Was this the same man that had left the crime scene a few hours ago? It was better, much better, seeing him in a love-shocked state then stuck in a lethargic mood of depression.

Warrick and Greg spent a happy half hour teasing and laughing with Nick while going over what they had so far. It felt so good to all three of them to be working with each other like the old days. To be talking and laughing freely like they used to, no more tension and fraying nerves. For a while, Warrick and Greg truly believed that Nick had finally found the magic to pull his old life completely back together again.

But it was short lived. Catherine had been stewing on her worry and concern for well over 2 hours now and was reaching a breaking point. She had fully convinced herself that Nick was on the verge of self-destruction. As she went by the break room she saw all three men and called Nick out to her. Without a word she led him to an empty lab room that offered as much privacy as this busy building could offer and unloaded on him.

"Look, Nick, I'm going to take you off this case." Nick's face, which had been a polite, confused inquiry, quickly went to offended shock. His mouth opened to argue but Catherine overrode him, "Look, this case is way too personal to you. We can't chance something happening over this, like you getting burned or something to compromise the case."

Nick could barely believe what he was hearing. He was just beginning to think that maybe, just maybe, things were starting to heal again; to be the way they were before. As the initial shock quickly wore off, anger was fast on the scene.

"I'm just going to think I didn't hear what you just said." He said as calmly as he could between gritted teeth, "Also, since when has a case being too personal ever been a big issue?"

"Look, Nick, I'm not going to retract what I said. I don't want this to affect your work."

Those words were like a slap on the face. Everything he had worked to prevent, all he tried to forestall, was suddenly thrown into his face by that simple sentence. He knew his face reflected what he felt inside, for the first time. Oh God, how he had tried to NOT show that! Work had been all he ever since he had been buried underground! Before that even. Since Nigel Crane had stalked him and thrown him out a second story window, since Amy Hendler pointed a gun to his face. He had relied on things to do, to keep his mind busy, since he was 9. It was everything to him, to keep his mind off his fears. This was the first case to make him actually feel free, in an odd way, for the first time.

Catherine knew she had said the wrong thing as soon as she had blurted it out. She hadn't meant for this to happen. She worried too much about the younger men of the lab. But the look on Nick's face…If she had just told him that someone close to him had died the look on his face couldn't have been more evident. Oh no…what have I done? She thought.

"No."

"What?"

"I said, no. You aren't going to take me off this case. I don't care how close I am to this. I can and will do my job." Nick bit each syllable of on his last sentence and continued on when Catherine opened her mouth, "I'm not a child anymore, Cath, I'm full grown now but no one seems to give any credit to that. For the love of GOD, can you at least let me choose for myself for once?!?" By now he was almost yelling and didn't care.

"Well, you never say anything to give us any clues so what the hell are we supposed to do? We can't read your mind, Nick!"

"The last time someone tried to do that it didn't end up quite so well, did it? Plus you can't seem to get the _clue_ that maybe I don't want or need any help. I was doing just fine up until 3 minutes ago!"

Before Catherine could respond, Nick turned and stormed out of the room. He ignored everyone's stares and questions. He went into the locker room, grabbed his kit where he had left it earlier, got his keys, slammed his locker door so hard that he knew he was going to have a hell of a time opening it next time, and left.

He didn't care what Catherine said. He was going to finish this case…he _had_ to. To him it was like closing a chapter of his life that he had left open for well over 20 years. No one seemed to get it. Why the hell couldn't they _leave_ it? Catherine, of all people, should have known why this case was so special to him. Should have known how he _needed_ this closure.

He started his car and pulled off before anyone could follow him. His cell phone was ringing non-stop. He didn't know who was calling him, couldn't tell, and didn't care. He finally reached over, and turned the damn thing on silent. A raging storm of emotions flooded his body. Anger dominated the mix but there was also grief; that no one understood him. Also loneliness and a deep and utter sadness that constricted his chest.

Nick drove like a bat out of hell towards 14987 Oak St, easily breaking every speed record in the process. A small voice in the back of his mind warned him that this was stupid, not to mention dangerous. That_ this_ was what Catherine might have been talking about. Of all the people in the lab that should know better than to go to a crime scene at night and alone, it should have been Nick. But he had been pushed to the edge. He couldn't turn back now.

Once inside the house Nick shook off the annoying voice and focused on his job. His JOB. He remembered Warrick and Greg going over where they had gone, but it seemed that they forgot to look in the garage. Not a problem. He could do that by himself.

If the house was bad, the garage was even worse. Mixed with old, smelly trash was decaying leaves and other debris and old cobwebs and who knew what other creepy crawlies. The last one didn't make Nick feel comfortable in the slightest but he was still driven by the surge of anger and desperation.

There was one flat surface in the garage, a counter top on the far wall that was only covered in a layer of dust. One spot was wiped off, the patterns in the dust suggested that it was by someone's hand. Nick eagerly dusted the area and found an entire hand print in the very center. He almost smiled, not quite, but almost.

Catherine threw her cell phone down in disgust. Nick wasn't answering his cell or his home phone and she had left enough messages on both so that he would be listening to them for the next 3 years. He didn't answer to Greg's, Warrick's, Sara's or Brass's calls either, until Brass remembered that the screen of Nick's phone was broken and couldn't tell who was calling or whether he was just ignoring all the calls all together.

"He either went home, went for a run or went back to the crime scene." Warrick thought out loud, "Why the hell did you go after him like that, Cath? He was doing just fine."

Catherine didn't answer. She didn't know herself. Inwardly she was kicking herself; she could have easily pushed Nick to do exactly what she was trying to prevent.

"You know how he has the stubborn, jack-assed Texas pride! I swear it's the water." Warrick was saying.

Just then Wendy came running in waving a sheet of paper. "You so got lucky that this found a hit on the first run! DNA from the dirty underwear, by the way you owe me on that that was disgusting, anyway, the DNA came back to a Kyle Gardner, white guy age 36, umm, arrested 3 years ago for assault and last year for aggravated assault but was acquitted due to the witness being to scared to testify."

"Well, he aint getting away this time." Brass muttered. "Look, I'm going to bet that Nicky went back to the crime scene simply to prove you wrong Catherine. I'll go look for him and Kyle Gardner and bring them both back, or at least Kyle."

"Nick went back to the crime scene alone?" Wendy asked, "You better go fast then…it says that this guy has a habit of going back to the crime scene after the fact and that's probably why the witness was too scared to testify."

Everyone froze at her words. If she was right and If Nick had indeed gone back to the crime scene… Nick was in danger. Before they left, Warrick gave voice to the question that bothered everyone,

"Why is it that we can't seem to learn not to go to a crime scene at night alone?"

Nick had gotten all he really needed for now. He wanted to leave this place badly. It just scared him too much. Just drop the finger prints off with Mandy, go home and get some sleep and argue with Catherine tomorrow. Nick turned around to leave.

He stopped stone cold. Why did this always seem to happen to him and why didn't he ever seem to learn from his mistakes? He felt his breath catch in his throat and his chest tighten. It didn't matter that it had happened twice before. It had the same effect each time.

Someone pointing a gun at his head.

Author's note- sorry it took a few days to get this up, May is a busy month! Just a quick note to all you Catherine fans, I didn't want to seem her a cold cruel bitch…just the over-concerned over-protective matron figure. And yes, Grissom and Sara will get a slightly (slightly) bigger role later… I can only handle so many characters at once! Next couple of chapters more on Beck and Alisha!

-Vanillathunder215


	6. Dog Nights and Second Chances

He couldn't breath, couldn't move, couldn't hear anything or see anything beyond the muzzle of the gun. The world had frozen then, narrowing down to just Nick and the gun. He was only dimly aware of the sound of another breath as raspy as his own, of the stink of fear mixing with his own to form a noxious odor. He wound himself wishing that he had listened to the small voice in his head earlier.

For a second the gun wavered, like the person behind it in the shadows wasn't sure of what to do. Nick's heart gave a double thud as a second hand reached up and steadied the gun. The tell-tale click told him that he had very little time to do something before he died.

The lights flashed on the patrol car, but the sirens were cut. If there was a potential suspect at the house, then they didn't want to scare him off… or scare him into doing something to Nick, if Nick was even there. Warrick kept wishing over and over again that Nick was home, just plain in a snit and not answering his phone. Please, just not there!

It was a 10-15 minute car ride to the house on Oak St. but it seemed to take years. They were already going well over the 40mph speed limit but Greg wished they would go faster. He knew that Nick was at the house. He remembered Nick saying something about searching the garage, how they had forgotten the frekin' garage. Greg knew better than to start with the "If" questions. Those never brought anything but more pain.

The absence of weight on his hip told Nick that he had left his gun in his truck. Damn! Of all the times to forget… He had no other weapon and nowhere to run or hide. But, damn it all, he was NOT going to let this happen a second time! He was sick of it all and it was going to end now. Pushing his fear back, he tried to replace it with anger. He tried to focus on one thing; staying alive.

Just as the finger on the trigger began to squeeze, Nick lunged at the person, knocking him backwards onto the dirty concrete floor. The gun went off as he hit the gunman, he felt something burn his arm, then it went numb but he never let go. Someone beneath him gave a loud grunt as they hit the floor, the gun skittered off to the side, off into the gloom. But the man underneath Nick was not going to give in that easily. As Nick tried to keep his grip with one good arm, he endured a round of well- placed punches. He gritted his teeth. He couldn't hold out much longer, but there was no way he was going to lay down for and take it this time.

The tires squealed slightly as they pulled up in front of the house.

"The garage, try the garage first." Greg said excitedly, pointing to the small building. A shot rang out through the night, followed by the thud of something hitting the ground. All four men jumped and stared, frozen in shock, at the garage for a moment.

"Oh, god no." Warrick whispered his eyes wide in shock. "Please, say that wasn't… no…"

All four of them ran to the garage, Officer Davis and Brass pulling their guns free and Greg and Warrick falling behind, but not by too much.

Nick was just about ready to let go and let fate take over. His arm was starting to burn badly and his body ached. He had almost no energy left from trying to defend himself and to take out his opponent. Suddenly, the door to his right burst open in a glorious shower of dust and dirt illuminated by the moon light and several flashlights. He heard the order to freeze and started to let go. It was a mistake but he couldn't hold on with his numb arm anymore.

An elbow caught him under the chin and knocked him backwards. He heard another scuffle begin where he had left it. He could barely make out another person picking up his abandoned wrestling match through the fog that clouded his vision. But he did hear three familiar voices through the roaring in his ears.

"Hey Warrick, got ya a buncha prints and a free suspect." He slurred slightly, his accent thick, "Too bad Cath won't let it go through." He added mostly to himself.

He shook off his dizziness and stood up slowly, ignoring Warrick, who tried to help, and Greg, who hovered in the background, not quite sure about what to do. He quickly moved so that no one could see just how badly off he was. He did not want to go to the hospital. Bad enough that they now would watch him even more closely; he didn't want to give them the excuse to actually baby-sit him. He was sick of that too.

"Sorry I left a bit of a mess." Nick mumbled. His tongue began to explore his mouth, searching for any sign of an injury from the last hit.

"The hell… Hey you alright, man?" There was more than one meaning behind the question.

"I'm fine." Everyone within hearing distance winced at those hated words. "Look, there's nothing wrong with me and I got you a bunch of prints. Their over there with my stuff." Fortunately, nothing had moved, or even touched his evidence so the chain of custody was still in tact.

Warrick didn't seem to believe him but he let it slid…for now. Right now, he just wanted to get Nick out of here before they all go tin even bigger trouble…especially Nick. "Hey, Greg can take these to Mandy. You on the other hand, are going home and I'm going to take you. I'll even make you feel better by letting Greg drive my truck and I'll take yours."

"Probably a good idea, otherwise Catherine will have his head on a plaque in the lab." Brass said after seeing the annoyance begin to darken Nick's face. "Warrick will take you; you are not driving after a smack like that. Better yet, Rick, can you take him to the hosp-"

"No!" Nick cut Brass off sharply, making his head spin even worse, "I'll be alright, just… just no." Nick finished lamely, though he made sure to leave the word "fine" out of it.

Brass twisted his jaw around for a minute, looking the younger man over, looking for signs of concussion or anything else. Aside from a little shaken and bruised he seemed ok. He couldn't see the bloody rip on the shoulder of Nick's shirt, nor see the blood on his dark shirt in the nearly non-existent light. Nick didn't mention it. He simply refused to go to the hospital.

Finally Brass nodded and Nick immediately left, followed by Warrick.

Nick lived only 20 minutes away from the crime scene but his cold silence, and Warrick's worried one, made it uncomfortably long. Warrick longed to just lash out at Nick, just demand why the hell he had gone and done something as stupid as that. To force him to tell him exactly what was going on in that stubborn head of his. Why he was pushing everyone away. But he didn't want to push it. After all, Nick had seemed to have found something that helped and another confrontation like the one he had earlier just might push him over the edge. Maybe he didn't need… Warrick cut off his musings right there. He was having an extremely hard time with this but he felt certain that Nick was having an even worse time.

By the time they got to Nick's house, both were relived that the trip was over.

Nick mumbled out a thanks and a goodbye and got out. Warrick watched him until he disappeared inside his house and left. He had no idea how to help his best friend and it was killing him.

Nick waited an appropriate amount of time for Warrick to leave and be out of sight before he turned around and left again. His arm was no longer numb, but throbbing painfully, getting worse every minute. His head hurt and his sides and chest hurt. Above all he was shaken. Adrenaline still coursed through his system and fear still gripped his heart. He needed space and air to calm down.

He went automatically to the park down the street from his house. At this late (or early) hour, no one was out. It was dark and the trees cast weird shadows but Nick knew this park like the back of his hand and the trees were thin enough as to not provide enough protection to anyone who might try to hide in them. Also, street lights offered plenty of light to any late night walkers. Nick walked slowly through the trees, breathing deeply, trying to clear his mind. It wasn't working too well. All he wanted was someone to truly unload on…

"Nick? What are you doing out here?" Nick nearly jumped out of his skin and whirled around.

Alisha stood behind him, holding a couple of leashes, though Nick didn't see any dogs.

"I guess I could ask you the same thing." He said, unable to keep the tremor out of his voice.

Alisha didn't answer. She gave him a long searching look then let out a long low whistle. 2 dogs ran over immediately and waited patiently while she snapped on their leashes. One was a huge German Shepard and the other looked like a Lab. "I have a life outside of that hospital, like you do, though most people don't seem to believe it. Beck was asleep and I wasn't needed so I went home to get some sleep but first I had to take these guys for a walk."

Then she looked up sharply. Nick realized that, while Brass and Warrick might have missed his injuries, Alisha had not missed a single one. She was too observant and her eyes were far more trained than theirs was.

"Once again; why are you out here? Especially with those injuries." She came closer and got a closer look, "Good God that looks like a gunshot wound. Nick…"

"Long story…" suddenly he felt really tired. He wished he hadn't come out here at all.

Alisha heard his tone. It reminded her of when her best friend had gone through a nasty custody battle and lost. She could guess that Nick probably needed a friend. That she could give, along with free medical attention.

"Come on, I live just over there. I would be one cruel bitch if I left you standing there like this; covered in blood and looking like someone shot your dog." She gently pulled on his arm, sending his already roiling stomach fluttering.

She had a small house on the corner, just down the street from him. Inside was cozy and homey, defiantly a touch of Texas with a woman's style to it. Nick really liked it. It reminded him of home.

"Go sit, I'll be right back. No not you two!" she mockingly scolded the two dogs who obediently sat, tails wagging, "And be nice. This is Rocky and this is Belle, by the way. They love people." Alisha pointed to the Shepard and the Lab in turn. To prove their point, both dogs went over to Nick, their tails wagging harder and their faces in doggy grins as he scratched behind their ears.

She smiled to herself as Nick's face relaxed as he petted her dogs. She used Belle for therapy sometimes at the hospital, but both dogs had an uncanny ability to break defenses. She would let them work their magic as she took her time to get what she needed.

Nick had never been this relaxed in another female's home before. He guessed that it was the dogs, or it might have been the fact that Alisha didn't know about his rocky past or his problems. He really didn't want her to know. The one girl he had tried to get going with immediately turned tail when she found out about his incident with Walter Gordon. The blow had hurt so bad that he had almost been afraid to try again.

Alisha came back in, putting various things on the coffee table in front of them and handing him a beer. "Yeah, I know it's late, or early, but you look like you could use one."

"I thought you just had this thing for giving me something to drink." He smiled. He checked the brand. It was just as he thought; it was a Texas brand, Shiner. "And Texas drinks at that."

"If you don't like it, you're up a crick. That's the only brand I got. They don't seem to have a steady supply of this stuff here so when my best friend visited last month when I moved in, he surprised me by giving me, like, a life time supply. I guess I should have made that SOS sound a little less desperate."

They both laughed. Nick got the cap off by using the hem of his shirt to snap it off but Alisha immediately reminded him of some of the girl he had seen at a rodeo. She used her belt buckle. Defiantly born, bred and raised Texas. But it only served to heighten Nick's ardor for her.

He let her inspect his arm, relieved when she said it was completely superficial, no stitches required. It was extremely awkward for him to remove his sweat and blood soaked shirt and let her check out his ribs for any breaks or internal injuries. For one, he was ticklish so every time her hands pressed into his belly or sides he couldn't help but twitch and laugh. And another, he could barely stop his stomach from clenching every time she got close. God, it was near unbearable.

"Well, you are tough. I'll give you that." Alisha gathered up her stuff and began to clean up while Nick pulled his shirt on again, "Just don't go and get in anymore fights will you?"

Nick nodded sheepishly, still not trusting himself to speak just yet. He was waiting for his heart to stop pounding so hard, for his blood to cool.

"And that brings me back to my original question…What the heck were you doing at the park?" Nick looked up, slightly shocked, "Hey, I told you why I was there… fair is fair." She took out any accusing tone, making it light. Something was up and she had too much experience with anguish like this. Thanks to people like Beck, she also knew how to successfully get through to them.

"I just needed some air. Really bad day." Nick allowed. He wasn't lying but he didn't give the whole truth either, "I just needed to get out."

"Related in any way to Beck?"

"In a way, yes. But I got a lot going on as well."

"Oh come on, talk."

"You wouldn't want to hear it."

"Try me. I got 3 younger brothers and sisters. My best friend also has 3 younger brothers and sisters and his cousin lives across the street. They are all teenagers with issues. Plus Beck was also in that mix. I've lent an ear more than once. I'm more than willing to do so again."

She said it in such a friendly understanding way that Nick cracked. He broke his promise and unloaded on her. He couldn't stop once the flood started. A small art of his mind wondered at himself. Here he was pouring his guts out to someone he had known for barely a day, in her house no less with her dog snoozing on his foot. But he no longer cared. She never moved, never interrupted. She sat there calmly, occasionally taking a sip of her beer, but her eyes were always on him. The only signs she ever gave was the occasional flicker in her eyes; anger and sadness and sympathy. Her heart went out to him. No wonder he had been so taken to Beck. Their stories were a lot alike!

He told her everything, from when he was 9 all the way to the past couple of hours. When he finished he leaned back, feeling oddly empty. He glanced at Alisha, ready for the worst.

She saw the look he gave her but was unsure about what it meant. She didn't think any less of him for what he just told her. In fact, it improved it. She had liked him before, but now her heart went totally out to him. But she didn't think he needed a girl friend now. Just a female friend who was going to give him what he so desperately needed; simple friendship.

"All I can say to that is this; I said you were tough earlier… you're more than tough. For making it through all that and coming across as normal? That's incredible. I'm truly sorry for what you went through; no one should have to go through that sort of shit." She watched Nick carefully. He seemed so incredibly relived that she wasn't going to freak out on him. She didn't have to ask why.

"As for your friends… It's a simple case of no one knowing exactly what to do, including you. You guys were so close that it became that much harder to put up with it. Should they let you be or stick too close? Protective or observant? It goes on and on. But they are trying to help you, Nick."

"I know, I know. I just don't know how much more of this I can take."

"Listen; remember how your phone rang while you were processing Beck?" When Nick nodded she went on, "That was me who called you. I had told Brass that you were freaked out by Beck's gorgeous neck and I didn't think you wanted to heave again. He gave me your cell number, knowing that your screen was broken. You had to answer it just because of that. Beck can testify to it, little snot saw me do it."

"Really? I didn't know that…"

"Yeah, well, now you have my phone number so you can call me if you ever need to. But Brass showed me that they do care for you. Just talk to them. Give it a chance. Let them know what you feel. I don't mean that you have to go and pour out like you did just now if you don't want. But let them know, poor guys are probably tearing their hair out right now. Brass can't afford to lose any more hair, by the way."

Her last comment broke the last remnants of ice and Nick laughed, truly laughed for the first time in a long time.

"Good, I made you laugh. Hang on; I want to show you something." She got up and ran into the back of her house. Nick heard her rummaging through something. Rocky, who had his head on Nick's foot, effectively cutting off blood circulation, lifted his head for a second then flopped back down, groaning in pleasure.

Alisha ran back in holding what looked like pictures. She handed Nick one. The boy in the picture was scared and looked to have been crying. He was thin and pale and had cuts on his face and hands. He looked horribly like…

"That's Beck when I first saw him 4 years ago. This was after his parents had been killed in some unknown accident. We have no idea what happened and Beck is resolutely silent about it. Most kids that I have seen after something like this are usually quiet and withdrawn for the rest of their lives. Adults as well. But you and Beck seem to be alike in that you are of a different mold. Look." She handed him the other picture.

Three teens, all about 17, grinned back. All three were muscular and were glowing in good health, despite the sweat the soaked their jerseys and made their hair stick out in weird clumps and spikes. The one on the left…

"Beck last year with Chase and Cory after they won a rugby tournament. Can't tell the difference between these two pictures, can you?"

Nick honestly couldn't. The older Beck was such a far cry from the scared boy in the other picture. There wasn't a trace of fear or anything in his blue eyes.

"You boys remind me of each other." Alisha said softly, looking at the picture, "Too damn stubborn to quite."

Nick left not long after that. He felt so light, so emptied of problems and pain that he almost felt like he was floating. Why the heck hadn't he ever done this before?

The light happy feeling persisted as he took a shower and fell into bed. He fell asleep with it, that and Alisha's parting words.

"Anyone who can pull through this deserves a second chance at life."


	7. The End Is Never As Close As You Think

Beck moved around restlessly, ignoring the occasional twinge of dulled pain from his beaten body. He had gotten several hours of complete and restful sleep and it had done wonders for him, never mind the sedatives or pain killers that he was on. Now he was bored.

If he had been a late riser like his friends back home this wouldn't have been a big problem but he was an early riser, thanks to school hours. His internal alarm clock still got him up around 6 every morning, much to his annoyance. Sleep was the best way (and sometimes only) to pass time in a hospital.

Alisha wouldn't come in until around 9 or 10, if she still kept her old hours. If not then it could easily be a lot longer, which seemed more possible. No one else seemed to want to go near the kid who had almost bitten a doctor last night. Beck sighed. It wasn't as if he had _wanted_ to bite. It just seemed like the best idea at the time in his hazy mind.

Right after Alisha had left, another doctor had attempted to come in. Beck had been groggy on sedatives at the time and fairly cooperative. Still the man had kept his distance. Beck could see someone else behind him, closer to the door, but his vision was too blurry at the time. Something had made him uneasy and he remembered that he had started to get combative. Then both men had left. Still, he felt something wasn't right.

He picked at the bandages on his wrists. He also remembered the look on Nick's face last night when Alisha was telling him and the other cop what was wrong with him. It was the usual mix of anger and disgust but something else… He hadn't been able to get a better look because he was pretending to sleep at the time, but it seemed to him like Nick was _associating_ with it. Then it hit Beck…Nick had been through the same thing!

Well…maybe not exactly the same. Not everyone had the indignity of a collar around their neck, but the end result was the same.

Beck stretched, hearing his shoulders and back pop. It felt good to be able to move when he wanted to. Something else also popped. He looked down at his side.

"Oh damn." He mumbled. He had busted a stitch on his side and it was slowly oozing blood. Not enough for him to get someone to come fix it right now. He could wait for Alisha. He settled back, contenting himself to count the tiles on the ceiling over and over again. He had waited months to be rescued; he could wait a few hours for her.

Alisha had paced and fretted for a long time after Nick had left. She knew her words had hit home but, also being from Texas, she knew how stubborn he could be. He probably would not really talk with his friends and co-workers. They would all probably butt heads for awhile and Alisha didn't know how much more they all could take.

Finally she made up her mind. She grabbed her purse, dumped food in the dogs' bowls and ran out the door.

She had no idea what made her do this. She rarely intervened on situations like these from the inside. That could lead to serious trouble, but something compelled her to do it. Maybe it was the flutter she felt in her stomach every time she saw Nick. Maybe it was that this reminded her of all the times she helped out friends and family. Or maybe it was simply that Nick reminded her so much of Beck. It could have been all three, but she mostly suspected the latter.

She walked as calmly as she could into the CSI lab. The receptionist at the desk looked friendly enough. Alisha felt the first flutters of nervousness, maybe this wasn't sure a good idea…

"Can I help you?" Too late now as she had to answer the lady who gave her a genuine smile.

"Yes, I, uh, was looking for Capt. Brass?"

"I'm sorry, you just missed him."

"Are any members of Nick Stokes' team still here? I'm kinda helping them with an investigation." A little white lie never hurt anyone.

"Sure thing, most of them are in the break room right now but Nick I know isn't here. You can go there right now, it's just that way." She motioned with a manicured hand that Alisha could never hope to have in her profession down the hallway to her left. Swallowing her fear, she resolutely went down the hall. It was easy to find the break room as she could hear voices arguing before she even got to the door.

"I know I shouldn't have gone off like that at him but this only proves my point! He's rubbing into the ground now!" a female voice practically wailed.

"He was doing just fine before you went and burst his bubble. Dammit, he was starting to figure things out." A deep male voice snapped, "He would have never have done that if you hadn't pushed him to the edge again!" Alisha could only assume they were talking about Nick, and the events that led up to her finding him in the park.

"I did what I thought was best for him, ok?!? We can't always be here to hold his hand or whatever."

Alisha had heard enough. She was getting to walk in when she felt a hand on her shoulder. Stifling a squeal she spun around only to see an older man with glasses and grey hair holding a finger to his lips. He motioned for her to wait where she was and then went inside.

"That's enough." She quickly figured he was in charge because no one gave orders like that (except her) unless they were the head honcho.

"I don't know what happened, nor will I pretend to but I have a good idea. However, I think there is someone who would like to say something to you all." He motioned for Alisha to come in and she quickly complied.

There were 4 people in the room. A tall, lanky black man who looked like he wanted to go and rip something up with his teeth, a shorter woman with strawberry blonde hair who looked equally as mad, if not more so. The other woman had short dark hair and was sitting next to a younger man with crazy looking blonde hair. Both of the latter looked nervous and worried.

"Hi, my name is Alisha." Before she could go on, the young blonde male spoke up.

"Hey, you're the doctor Nick was telling us about, remember Warrick? The Texas chick!"

"Yeah, that's me." She smiled. "He's actually the reason I'm even here. From what I heard," The black man that the blonde man had called Warrick winced, as did the woman with the strawberry blonde hair, "Y'all have the same concern. I've only known him for a couple of hours but I've gotten to know him pretty well."

She took a deep breath. These guys were scientists. Time to cut to the chase. She told them all that had happened between her and Nick in the past couple of hours, leaving out some of things she had said and what he had said. When she finished, they all were looking at the floor.

"Honestly, it's no ones fault. I figured he was going to be too stubborn to take any action any time soon, so I broke one of my cardinal rules and intervened." She crossed her toes in her shoes. Oh, she hoped she had done the right thing!

Nick walked through the hospital doors. After a few hours of blissfully dreamless sleep he felt energized. He had promised Beck that he would see him again; he didn't think that it would make much difference whether or not he came as a CSI.

He found Beck staring at the ceiling. "You know that there are 98 1/8 tiles on the ceiling?" He asked as a way of a greeting.

"98 1/8? How did you come up with the 1/8?" Nick asked, sitting down in the chairs. He swore that the hospital's ironic sense of humor always included chairs that were extremely uncomfortable.

"Each tile on the sides and corners are cut to fit. When you've been staring at the ceiling for over 3 hours, one tends to get an accurate measurement." Then he looked over at Nick, frowning a little and cracking his neck, "Shouldn't have been staring up all 3 hours though." Then he grinned.

"At least you seem to be feeling better." Nick felt an instant wave of relief. Beck was tough after all.

"Amazing what a couple of hours of solid sleep will do to ya."

"Tell me about it. By the way…just how much did you hear yesterday?" Beck gave a grin that was typical to any mischievous teenage boy.

"I really don't need to answer that now do I?"

Nick rolled his eyes. Suddenly his phone rang.

"Has a weird thing for doing that whenever I'm around, huh?" Beck teased. Nick gave him a mock glare and picked it up.

"Nick? It's Mandy. Your fingerprints came back. Major hit in CODIS. A Kelly Greensborough and it is a male Kelly. White guy 54 years old, in and out of prison for years for various infractions including armed assault, rape and aggravated assault, just like the other guy."

"What other guy?"

"Huh? Oh you weren't here… They got a hit off some clothes Warrick found at the scene; a Kyle Gardner. In fact, they just confirmed that he is the dude they got from the scene. Brass has some guys looking for this creep now."

"Thanks Mandy."

Nick hung up, feeling elated and sick at the same time.

"What is it?" Beck looked at him curiously.

"I'm not really supposed to tell you…"

"Look, I really need to know." Beck's face suddenly gave way to the fear he had been trying to hide, "These guys don't really quit. If they're still out there…I'm still in trouble."

Nick studied the teen's face for a few moments, then finally said, "OK, we got one guy and are looking for the other. There were only two right?"

"As far as I knew. Could be more, but I only knew two."

"What else can you tell me?"

Beck hesitated. He shifted uncomfortably and stared at the wall. For the longest time his tongue seemed stuck to the roof of his mouth but then he spoke.

"There used to be three."

"Three?"

"Yeah… I only saw him once, about a week or so ago. He…I…well, shit, I don't need to say it, but the older guy seemed pretty pissed. I thought I heard a gunshot, but I can't say for sure because I was a little out of it. But a few days later, something smelled really bad. Right before you guys came, it was gone."

"He murdered someone?"

"I thought I was next. Nick, be careful, the guy has a temper and he happens to be a little protective over the younger idiot."

Nick didn't have a good feeling about this. He took his leave and hurried from the hospital. He needed to let Brass and the others know that this had morphed into a potentially dangerous situation.

"I'm only going to ask this one more time." Brass leaned over the metal table in the interrogation room, sticking his face into Kyle Gardner's face, "Where is Kelly Greensborough!"

"I aint saying nothing." He mumbled. Brass wrinkled his nose slightly in disgust as liquor fumes assaulted him.

"'Aint saying nothing' eh? Double negative means you are."

"I dunno where he is! He skipped out once the kid started screaming. Knew the neighbors would call the police. They said they would if they heard stuff any more."

"What stuff?"

"I aint telling you!"

"Lemme put it this way; you don't tell me anything, you are going to go away from a long time for kidnapping, assault, sexual assault and second degree murder of a minor. That's instant death penalty!"

"He's dead? I didn't think he would die…he looked tough enough."

"Well, looks aren't everything." Brass had bluffed on the last charge, but it got the idiot drunk's attention.

"I never touched the kid. He was Kelly's toy. I just listened; I never even saw 'em! It was Kelly's idea anyway; he liked the kid when he saw 'em back in Texas." Kyle was quick to crumble at the words "death penalty".

Brass sat back and rubbed his eyes, "So you have no idea where he is now? Cuz if you do, and you don't tell us, that's obstruction and that adds on another 10 years."

"No no no no. No idea. He has other places to hide. I don't know." He answered quickly.

"Whatever; take him." Brass motioned at the guard by the door.

"Wait! I told you all I knew!"

"Yeah, but you're still under arrest for kidnapping and assault." Brass got up and left. They were so close to finishing this case, but still so very far away. He felt tired, so tired. This case was emotionally draining and Nick wasn't exactly very helpful in that regard either. Brass had been meaning to call Warrick to see of Nick was all right but had never gotten the chance in the hubbub that had followed.

He went to his desk and pulled out paperwork. Ah, the glory of having your own desk. With it comes the ownership of your very own pile of paperwork.

He barely even got the date down on one sheet before someone came running in.

Much to his surprise, Brass saw a slightly puffed Nick.

"Brass, we might have a problem." He panted.

"Regarding the case or you?"

"Both actually. As you know there are two suspects. We got the younger guy but apparently the older guy is a lot smarter and has an overprotective feel for the guy we have. To make this worse, he has a temper and a gun."

He had said it way too fast for the older man, but Brass got the word "gun" pretty fast. Suspects and guns…never a good match.

"Get back to the lab."

Nick never really realized just how fast Brass could move when he wanted to. The younger man actually had trouble keeping up as they almost ran to the door.

However they never really made it. For the second time in less than 24 hours, Nick found himself staring down the barrel of a gun. However, there was no saving grace this time. Not even the 10 or so guns being drawn all around could save him. Nothing to stop Kelly Greensborough from pulling the trigger.

Author's note: Sorry it took me so long to get this up and going, May is a really busy month!! Once june rolls around, everything will go faster!

-Vanillathunder215


	8. Agony

It was silent. The space of time between when Kelly Greensborough pulled the trigger and the bullet slamming into Nick's body was utterly silent. He didn't feel any pain, not at first. He felt the bullet go into his body, felt pressure and felt the hot gush of blood flow over him, but no pain. 3 more times bullets hit him, each time, each thud of pressure, made his stomach churn worse.

Then the pain came. It started in his chest and belly, like a soft slow burn, and then it ignited; roaring through his body like a wildfire, burning, burning him to death. His vision turned into a red haze, he heard the fire roaring in his ears, drowning out the shouts of the police officers and even more gun shots. He couldn't hear Brass screaming at someone to call the paramedics, telling him to hold on.

Nick started to shake. How could he hold on with his body on fire, the nauseating rush of hot blood all over him and this new sudden, overpowering need for air?

She was beautiful, so beautiful. Why the hell hadn't he told her that? Pain flared up in his belly. He didn't want to die without telling Alisha how beautiful she was; how she made him feel.

Nick felt his body being rolled to the side. He kept coughing up mouthfuls of sticky blood, clogging his throat, making him choke. Someone told him to spit, but he couldn't make his tongue obey. Someone's fingers were in his mouth; wiping out the worst of the blood, trying to clear his airway. Finally he managed a deep lungful of air, but it only served to fuel his desperate need for more air.

His co-workers…his friends. God, how he wished none of the fighting had ever happened. He wished fervently that he could tell them he was sorry, how he wanted life to go back to the way it was.

There wasn't enough air to keep him awake. He heard Brass begging him to stay awake. Something made him actually try to get up, some delirious illusion or something. He tried to get his arms under him, but the combined force of a slippery blood pool and alarmed hands pushed him back down. He wanted to scream out at them. Didn't they realize he had a mission? Things to do before he died?

His last conscious thought was of her, the way her dark hair wisped around her heart-shaped face.

Alisha was heading back to her car when her pager beeped. She sighed and looked at it. A 911 call. So much for any sleep tonight. The hospital was a mere 5 minutes away… if she obeyed traffic laws. She rarely went the speed limit anyway. She often wondered how her poor truck managed to keep running with her abuse.

Everyone in the break room was still silent. Warrick and Greg couldn't get over how pretty she was; Sara and Catherine were slightly jealous and a little put off that it took just this one new girl to put things in a new light and Grissom was slightly amused. His amused look quickly faded when his cell phone rang and he listened to Brass' frantic yelling.

He snapped his phone shut. "It seemed we were all a little too late. Nick's in trouble again."

Alisha beat the ambulance. She rushed inside to have a nurse through her gloves and gown and goggles. Next time she could go a little slower, maybe even miss the action so she could slip away and sleep in a quiet corner somewhere until her shift.

When she saw the patient, she quickly took back her thought. She would never go the speed limit again. Forget sleep…she vowed never to even think of shirking again. A lump formed in her throat, making her breath catch in her throat.

Nick looked horrible. Blood pumped from wounds in his belly and chest, more blood seeped from his mouth and nose. His mouth was wide open, trying to suck in air. His face was deathly pale and his skin was cold. She barely heard the stats but one thing got to her; gun shot wounds to the chest and belly.

This man had saved Beck and worked his ass off for a kid no one wanted…There was no way Alisha was going let him die. Her mouth formed the hard line that signified the determination that saved many lives. He wasn't going to end up as one that they couldn't save.

Brass paced around the waiting area. He ignored the frightened glances he was getting from other people sitting in the area, though he made quite a sight; Nick's blood covered his shirt and sleeves and sweat from running around made the splatter of blood on his face run like horrifying war paint. He didn't care. He was pissed; there was no other word for it. He had sworn to himself that he would look after Nick whenever he had the chance; to make sure no other shit ever happened to him. Now look! Shot down right in front of him! To make matters worse, the perp had gotten away!! Somehow in the midst of the chaos, Kelly Greensborough had slipped off.

He stopped his pacing as a small dark eyed nurse walked towards him. Brass was not the tallest of men but this little woman barely came to his shoulders, yet she carried the same authority as Alisha did, and, boy, did that woman carry authority!

"Mr.…excuse me, Capt. Brass?" she said, her voice low, but Brass caught every word.

"How's Nick?"

"All I know is that they are working on controlling the bleeding. I can't say much right now. But there is another concern that some doctors beside Dr. Dryden and myself wish to address."

"Dr. Dryden?"

"Alisha. The man who shot Mr. Stokes…was he the same man who is suspected to be involved with Beck?"

"I'm not sure, but I have a feeling that it is, yes."

"He might come back then… for both of these guys."

Brass hadn't thought of that. If their suspect was who they thought it was…and everything fit into place, then once he found out that both his victims were alive then he might come back to finish the job. Beck was in the most danger right now. When more people showed up, Brass would take care of that.

"Don't worry…this won't happen again and I'll get someone to watch Beck and Nick."

The small nurse nodded, satisfied and began to walk off. She stopped and looked back at Brass. "I believe your friend will make it. If he comes from the same state as Alisha…nothing will stop him. If you have any more questions, don't hesitate to ask me. My name is Lisa." And she was gone.

2 hours later

The whole team waited more than a little impatiently. Any and all attempts at getting information were met by evading comments and requests to remain patient. Lisa and Alisha were nowhere to be found, which added to their annoyance. Finally Warrick spotted a familiar face and jumped up.

Alisha looked as if she hadn't slept in days. Her face was a little pale and her eyes tired but she kept up her air of poise. Immediately she was engulfed by the entire team and bombarded with questions. She simply stared at the ground and said nothing until they fell silent.

"No…oh god, please, no." Sara breathed, misinterpreting Alisha's stance.

"No, I didn't mean that…I was waiting to get my word in edgewise. I don't have the energy to talk over y'all." Alisha looked at her, her voice a little scratchy. "First off, Nick is in surgery and no I can't tell you exactly how he is." She added quickly, heading off questions before they were given voice, "He was shot 4 times; the first one was to his abdomen. It bounced around, shredding up his spleen, liver and a kidney. The second one was also to his abdomen. It sliced his stomach and embedded itself in a rib. Those two were the reason why he was bleeding so badly. All the blood from his organs was flooding into his already bleeding belly. Fortunately he was able to get it out, without having to deal with bleeding under pressure. The third bullet went to his chest, puncturing a lung, making it hard for him to get a good breath in. The last may have been the scariest one. It went straight in, didn't hit any organs but lodged in a rib, right next to his spine. The surgeons are still cursing over it but they think they can get it out. I can tell you more when he gets out of surgery in a few more hours."

This time she was met with silence. She could understand; she had felt like throwing up the whole time she had gone through and discovered this for herself. It wasn't something people wanted to hear.

She excused herself and went quickly down the hall. Finding it deserted, she slid down the wall and pulled her knees to her chest and let the tears come. It was never fair. People who never deserved pain usually were prime victims while people who deserved a life of hell got off. Like Beck, who had lost just about everything a kid had to lose. Like Nick, who only wanted to do the right thing. Like whoever did this to both males, who deserved eternity in hell.

"Hey." She looked up to see Warrick watching her. She quickly wiped away her tears and tried to smile, but couldn't quite manage it. Warrick sat down next to her. The one thing that linked the two of them was their love of Nick.

Beck started to feel the signs of panic. He had been stunned when he heard from some nurses gossiping that a police officer had been shot by someone in relation to his case. Beck wasn't stupid and he was very observant. Putting the two and two together, he quickly figured it was Nick and the man who had molested him. One thing he did know was that the man would come back if Nick lived… heck; he was already coming because Beck had lived. Nothing was going to get by him unpunished or unnoticed. He felt the need to run, to get away from this place. He had been running most of his life, now wouldn't make a difference. Clothes! He needed clothes…he only had his boxers but those were evidence now. His eyes fell on the cabinet in the corner. Maybe Alisha had… she had done it once in the past and also for his friends so maybe she had come through for him again.

He got up and went over to it. Squeezing his eyes shut, he pulled open the door. Yes! She had gone out and gotten him something after all. He felt a surge of affection for her, twinged with guilt because he was running from her too. But if he got away, maybe no one else would get hurt either. Gingerly, he pulled the tubes and whatnot from his body, saving the heart monitor for last because he knew that was monitored elsewhere as well.

He didn't know how females always knew the right size but she had gotten him jeans and a t-shirt that fit him almost perfectly. He couldn't tell his size at any given time but any female could…weird. He saw a sheet of paper and got the pen that was attached to the clip board by his bed.

I'm sorry. I'm not letting this happen again, not to me not to anyone.

-Beck

Leaving it on the bed, he ripped off the heart monitors and ran. He absolutely hated the sound of a flat line.

Author's note; this chapter was a short one with a heck of a lot of cliffhangers. I was feeling evil because it's going to be about a week or so before I can get back to writing and now everyone will have to wait for me to hurry up and decide Beck and Nick's fate.

Once again, any and all reviews appreciated (and more than welcome) plus if you want to give any thoughts on what should happen to these two let me know…I might just change the plot! Anyway, Thanks to everyone who left reviews in the past! I won't disappoint y'all in the slightest.

-Vanillathunder215


	9. Helpless

It was nearly 4 o'clock that evening when Alisha finally collapsed in a corner of the staff break room and fell asleep. She couldn't remember such an emotionally heart-wrenching day in her life. First she had discovered Beck had run off. Alisha was gifted, or cursed, in figuring out why people did what they did. She knew it had something to do with fear and guilt that Nick got shot…something well beyond Beck's control. That still hadn't prevented her from running around in a panic getting officers to search for him. The boy was now in serious danger. If the suspect got to him first…

Then Nick had gotten out of surgery. Everything had somewhat according to plan until the very end. The surgeons were forced to remove his spleen and a kidney. He could live without those. They also managed to stop the bleeding from the rest of his organs but they had been stuck over how to remove the last bullet that had lodged itself close to his spine. One wrong move and it would slip into his spinal cord and cause serious damage upon removal or permanently disable him. Nick's body quickly made the decision for them. Nick's body had suddenly jerked uncontrollably on the operating table in a massive seizure. It had taken them nearly 10 minutes to make the tremors stop. When it had, they had quickly checked to see what damage had been done.

The bullet had slipped into his spinal cord and lodged there. They had thrown caution to the wind and had removed it. They had to wait for him to wake up in order to se if he still had full mobility…if he even woke up.

After having to force herself to tell his anxious co-workers his current condition and what was yet to come, Alisha had put up reporters, more police officers and the mayor and sheriff. Exhausted to the bone and emotionally wrung out, she had walked off with the mayor in mid-sentence and had fallen asleep in the break room. Everyone who went in was careful not to disturb her. The tears sliding down her cheeks were testament enough to her anguish.

Beck had no idea what he was doing or where he was going. It had seemed like a good idea at the time to get the hell outta dodge but now… The only thing that spurred him on was the thought that maybe, just maybe, he could draw his tormentor away before anyone else got hurt. After all, no one cared for him; he was just a ward of the state. After being shoved from foster home from foster home, from state to state, he quickly realized no one truly cared.

He stumbled along, his body throbbing. He hadn't realized just how much he had been depending on the pain killers until it had left his system. He was in serious pain, but not enough to make him incoherent. The past couple of hours of diligent searching of the sidewalks had rewarded him with several quarters, 3 dimes, 15 nickels and way too many pennies. He then somehow managed to find a pay phone. In the world of cell phones, no one had use for pay phones and they were becoming ancient relics of the past. However, a few were still in use and he punched in the one of the two numbers he had memorized. He had lied to himself when he had thought no one cared about him…two people did; his best friend Chase and Alisha. When he heard the voice on the line answer he nearly broke down, partly from relief and partly from emotional and physical pain.

"Chase? Please tell me that's you." He almost didn't recognize his own voice from the buzz and the cracking.

"What the…? Beck? Dude, are you ok? You sound like shit."

"That's cuz I was left to die like it."

"What? Where are you? What happened?"

Beck told only the half truth; unable to tell his friend everything that had actually happened, not here, not now, but gave enough to make the teen on the other end of the line begin to worry about his friend. He sat in stunned silence, unable to actually believe what he was hearing, yet everything about Beck's voice said that it was.

"You ran away from Ali?" He asked at last when Beck had finished.

"I had to! If I stayed then more people would get hurt."

"Good God, has confinement screwed up your _brain_ as well? You and the _world_ were safer back with Ali and the _police_. Look, stay on the line, I'll call Ali from my cell and you _are_ going back. You aren't good to anyone, least of all Ali and me, dead. What block are you on?"

"Uh…63rd and South." Beck said weakly. He was in no mood to argue, least of all with Chase, who had perfected the art of arguing. He wasn't feeling very good at all and fear was making his stomach cramp.

Not only that, but he had forgotten completely about the popped stitch in his side. It was bleeding badly now, soaking his dark t-shirt. His body hadn't recovered from the earlier blood loss and he was feeling really sick and dizzy. He heard Chase talking faintly in the phone, to him or to someone else?

"Beck? Hey, you there? Beck, stay with me, man, stay with me!" He begged. Beck groaned in response, his friend's voice way too loud, making his ears ring even more.

"Hey, someone is coming to get ya. Stay there ok? Beck? Beck, answer me, buddy." Chase listened closely for any response. He heard another groan and a weird splattering noise, followed by voices and then tires squealing.

"Beck? Please tell me you only passed out, please." He muttered to himself. He willed whatever policeman who was chasing Beck to hurry up.

What he didn't know was that the phone was dangling helplessly from its cord over the sidewalk. His pleas overheard by no one.

It was the one phone call Alisha didn't mind being woken up for. She had dashed out to the group of policemen and told them all Chase had told her. 4 of them immediately left to go bring Beck back. Now all she had to do was wait.

To pass the time and ease her anxiety (and to avoid all the over anxious people), she went upstairs to go check up on Nick. He had been moved from recovery to an ICU ward. He was the only person in there; the other patient had been moved to a regular room the previous day. She was alone except for Nick, who was still unconscious.

She looked at his face, relaxed for the first time since she met him, but not in the way she would have ever wanted to see it. She gave in to the impulse to run her fingers through his short brown hair. She liked him a lot. He made her stomach and her heart flip every time she saw or thought of him. She couldn't think of anyone who deserved this any less. The sight of all the tubes and machines attached to his body, the oxygen mask over his mouth and nose, made her feel sick.

Just then Nick groaned. He weakly rolled his head to the side and tried to drag open heavy eye lids. His body felt like it weighed a ton and his head made of iron. He hurt everywhere; his whole body throbbed with every heartbeat. Somehow he opened his eyes and the first thing he saw was Alisha. He tried to smile but couldn't muster up the energy, so it came out as a weird twitch. She smiled at him and slid her hand into his, letting him know she knew what he meant. He heard her voice from far away, asking him to squeeze her hand back. It couldn't have been called a squeeze but the pressure was enough to please Alisha.

He felt so tired. He wanted to stay awake, he had so many questions and he needed to be awake to ask them. He had no idea what had happened. He remembered telling Brass they needed to go somewhere, to do something… then something happened, but he couldn't remember what. He really wanted to ask Alisha what happened but was so incredibly tired. He yawned suddenly, surprising him and making Alisha smile. She leaned over, kissed him on the forehead and settled herself next to him, leaving him to fall asleep with the sweet scent of her lingering around him, making his cold body feel warm and chasing away the throb of pain. Instead, his body throbbed with something else.

While Alisha felt comforted that Nick had woken up and had been able to move; she had kissed him for two reasons. The first was she had given in to another impulse and her lips still tingled from it, her heart begging for more, but the second reason was that she desperately needed to distract him from something that she had seen but he hadn't seem to notice, whether owing it to being tired or painkillers she didn't know. She only saw how Nick hadn't been moving his legs at all, didn't even react when her other hand had pinched his leg when she kissed him. Everyone's fears had been realized but she couldn't tell them yet. She wanted to be sure and Nick wasn't up to it yet.

She silently begged for good news as she went back down the hall to see if Beck had made it back ok. She was going to rip him a new one when she saw to it that he was fine. Then she was never going to let him out of her sight ever again.

One look from a returning officer was all the clues she needed to know that the nightmare wasn't over yet for anyone, least of all Beck. She turned and walked calmly away. But when she got to the ladies room, she ran in and began to heave violently.

Having been convinced that they were doing no good in the waiting room, Warrick and Greg were back out on the case they had started… minus Nick.

One of the officers who had gone out after the teen had come back and looked directly at the CSIs. "You need to come and see this." Was all he said. His face told the rest of the story.

The pay phone receiver hung pathetically by its cord, gently rocking with every breeze. There was a splash of some sort of liquid on the ground by the curb, tire marks and an empty syringe. Greg was crouched next to the pool of liquid, the one piece of evidence that was in danger of disappearing in the next hour or so from the hot Nevada sun.

"What do you think that is?" Warrick asked, crouching next to Greg. A sudden shift in wind quickly answered his question.

"Probably the kid got sick now that he's off pain killers. Didn't look like vomit because he didn't have anything solid in his stomach." Greg said as he collected a sample, his nose wrinkled.

Warrick nodded and moved off. He bagged the empty syringe and took photos of the tire marks. There was not much here, but it seemed all too obvious; Beck had made a call and, while talking, had been jumped. In his weakened state it wasn't too difficult to take him down and empty and syringe full of sedative into him. He probably never even had a chance…

Warrick leaned closer to the sidewalk. There was a blood pool? No, bloody mark or imprint of something, there. It wasn't splattered…it looked sponged on, like his t-shirt or something was bloody. Warrick took a sample though he had a pretty good idea whose blood it was.

"You think Nick will be ok?" Greg looked up suddenly.

The question caught Warrick totally off-guard and it took him a moment to answer.

"He will be, is going to be." He said softly, but with a fierceness that made Greg stare. "He's gonna be fine because he's Nick. The man has been through enough shit in his life to not pull through this time."

"I meant…I know he'll live, like you said he's Nick, but…even if he's paralyzed?"

"Then he'll pull through… and we won't let him down again. Been far too much of that lately." He added to himself.

By the way Warrick's back was to him and by the nature of the silence; Greg figured that the subject was now closed. Still his mind kept running away with him. He couldn't imagine how Nick could possibly keep on living the life he had paralyzed.

"Look, let's get this stuff back to the lab and see if we can't figure out what happened to Beck again." Warrick stood and headed back to the car, carrying evidence. Greg sighed and followed.

Back at the hospital, Jim Brass sat next to Nick, who was asleep. He was beating himself up over the whole thing; a CSI shot at the LVPD…_his_ domain! For goodness sake it was supposed to be the safest place in Vegas! Now Nick was paralyzed, because he couldn't get a leg up on a case.

Brass rubbed his forehead. He had insisted on watching over Nick, wanted to do something right about this whole mess. Next to him, Nick moaned softly in his sleep. He had been doing that for a while now, making Brass feel more and more anxious. Nick's face, unusually pale, was furrowed slightly, as if he were trying to frown. A light sheen of sweat glinted in the light off his face and neck.

Suddenly he shivered, his teeth chattering softly and his body shaking. Great, now he has chills. Brass thought. He reached out and gently laid his hand on the younger man's forehead. He felt the heat before he even touched Nick and nearly recoiled when he did; Nick's forehead was burning hot despite his shivers.

Brass rose and looked around the room for another blanket. There wasn't much he could do for Nick right now except be there for him. Yet, it made him feel like he was doing something until he got some answers.

Author's note: Sorry this took a while… (evil finals)… but I managed to get this done before I leave for Ohio for my cousin's graduation. I promise I will plan and write some more while I'm there and will try to post in about another week. Once again; THANKYOU TO ALL WHO POSTED REVIEWS, YOU GUYS ARE AWSOME!!!!!! And again, if anyone has any particular ideas over what they think should happen to Beck or Nick, (or anyone) feel free to leave a review on that! Anyway, enjoy!

-Vanillathunder215


	10. Ugly Reality

As Warrick had suspected, the blood samples and vomit were all Beck's. However, upon closer inspection, there was something very interesting about the bile. Beck hadn't really had anything in his stomach when he had thrown up (which saved everyone from too much of Hodge's complaining). However, there was something mixed in his vomit that wasn't what his body put there naturally.

Warrick had sent a sample of it to the toxicologist earlier (after listening to Hodge's remonstration over sending evidence to the right person) and had paced around the room, much to the tech's annoyance, waiting for the results. When the printer beeped and spat out the sheet of paper with the answers that Warrick needed, Jon had to dive for it to get it first. Like all the lab techs, he wanted to be the one to deliver the news.

"C15H10Cl2N2O2 . In other words; Lorazepam, a nice fast acting sedative, prescription only." Jon Wellner said, "Since it was in the stomach, my guess is that it was shoved down his throat and he immediately coughed it back up. There's enough in here to knock him out for about 9 hours and this stuff lasts 10 to 20 hours so I would say he'll be out 1 to 11 hours, give or take."

"So there is not enough here to kill him, ok that's good, we're still looking for a live body." Warrick mumbled, thinking it all over. "Wait… isn't Lorazepam a liquid? How did he get it orally?"

"It can be taken intravenously, orally or up the other end." The tech shrugged.

Warrick thanked the toxicologist and left, stopping by the print lab on his way to see Grissom.

Mandy was going working on the computer when Warrick entered but she stopped what she was doing and handed him her results, which surprised Warrick. She usually made him wait until she felt like stopping. He guessed that it was either because of Nick or the nature of the case…or both.

"Not much I can tell you. Fingerprints on the phone and the booth belonged to Beck. The ones on the syringe belonged to Kelly Greensborough. Exactly what we thought, sorry, Warrick."

Warrick shrugged, thanked her and ran off to find his boss.

Grissom was pouring over what little evidence they had in his office. He waited patiently while Warrick updated him but got up and started to pace around when he finished. Warrick was startled for the second time in less than 5 minutes. Grissom only paced when under an enormous amount of stress, like when they were waiting for news on Nick at the hospital. Warrick opened his mouth to say something but Grissom spoke first.

"How could the Lorazepam have gotten into his stomach if you found a syringe at the scene? That doesn't make any sense if it was forced down his throat. Did you test it to make sure that Beck's DNA was on the needle of the syringe?"

"I didn't think I needed to since our suspect's fingerprints were found on it."

"Go test it for Beck's DNA and also the inside to make sure that there was Lorazepam in it. Kelly Greensborough may be a drug addict and just threw a syringe that he used earlier out of the car. I don't want to be thrown off on this or have the entire case thrown out of court on a technicality, all right? Cover everything."

Warrick didn't argue with Grissom. He turned and immediately ran to go get his samples. Normally he would have gotten heated over accusations such as that but, God knows what Grissom was thinking but whenever he was in a mood like he was now, things happened.

Beck slowly dragged himself awake. He felt heavy and sluggish under the influence of the last dregs of the sedative. Unfortunately, it did nothing to quell the feeling of nausea and dizziness. He shook his head, trying to clear it, but quickly desisted as it made the spinning in his head worse. He tried to raise his hands to rub his eyes but they were stuck fast behind him. He slowly woke up to his situation after that.

He was tied to a chair, his arms bound tightly behind him, in what seemed to be a shed, judging by the size of the room and the light seeping in through cracks in the wooden walls. And the heat… oh it was so hot! Beck could feel sweat dripping off his face. He retched suddenly from the heat, but there was nothing left to come up except saliva.

As he sat there, coughing and gagging on the sour taste of bile, he remembered Chase's words. It wasn't so much as the words themselves but the way Chase had said them. He sounded… worried? Beck was confused. It had been such a long time that anyone had bothered to worry about him that he had almost forgotten what it felt like to hear it in someone else's voice.

He turned his head and spit out the sour taste in his mouth. He had coughed up more that just used spit and bile. Chase had unknowingly unlocked a part of Beck that had almost been broken from confinement. Beck's fighting spirit suddenly came back to life. For the first time in months, Beck felt angry.

After about an hour and a half of watching Nick shiver and sweat, Brass was at his nerves end. He nearly collapsed with relief when Catherine came in with Alisha, who seemed in a much better humor now that she had slept a little.

"You are sure he'll be all right?" Brass asked, his voice a little shaky.

"While watching him like this is undoubting unnerving, yes, he will be fine. His fever has gone down a little… see he's not shaking so badly any more. I'm more worried about his waist on down." Alisha said.

Catherine sank down in the chair next to Nick and smoothed his short, sweat soaked hair away from his forehead. Alisha was right. He was no longer shivering and his forehead was bearable now to touch.

"Amazing what sleep will do. He'll have that fever for a while but not as bad as it has been for the past hour or so." Alisha was saying.

At that moment Nick moved his head. He had felt Catherine's fussing with him and was pulling himself away from the dark clutches of sleep. This time he wasn't half delirious or incoherent. He remembered all that had happened in the last several hours…including the kiss from Alisha, which even the memory made a fire blaze in his heart.

He opened his eyes and looked at Brass, Alisha and Catherine's face each in turn. He didn't say anything, not yet. He had seen their faces freeze suddenly with tension. He knew that something was wrong. He quickly figured it out when he tried to move his legs and realized that they were just meat. He closed his eyes again and turned away, fighting to hold back the tears that came unbidden.

"Temporary or…like this?" He asked, unable to make himself say "permanent".

"Can't say for sure, but we're all hoping for temporary." Alisha said gently.

Nick nodded. He took a deep breath, telling himself over and over again that it was only temporary and that he would fight through it, just like he always had. Alisha came closer and slid her hand into his.

"I swear that I'll make sure it's temporary. I never make promises that I can't keep." Nick looked at her and smiled. She had a way of making him feel good no matter how bad things looked. Suddenly, his whole situation didn't seem so impossible anymore.

Suddenly, he remembered something that had been making him feel extremely anxious since he had gotten to the hospital.

"Cath, you didn't… you haven't called my parents yet, have you?"

"No…not yet, why?" She asked a little shocked.

"Please don't, I'm begging you, please don't call them." He pleaded, "If this ends up being permanent then I'll call them myself, but I seriously don't want them to know right now. I'll even take the fall for it." He added quickly seeing the look on Catherine's face.

"Ok, Nicky. That's your call. I won't call them and I'll tell Grissom that too."

Nick visibly relaxed. Then he looked over at Alisha. Not a word passed between them but the look that they shared said it all. In an impossibly fast day, they had fallen in love. It seemed straight out of a romance novel but there was no denying what their hearts already knew. Brass and Catherine saw the look and smiled. They had already seen the magic Alisha could work for Nick and vise versa. It was like they were made for one another.

Then they both looked away. Nike was getting tired again and he felt his eyelids sliding shut on him. He heard Catherine urging him to sleep but he couldn't without saying something first.

"Cath…Brass? I'm sorry…tell the others that too; I'm sorry."

Warrick had put a rush on his samples but it still took too long for him. He wanted, needed, to finish this case for both Nick and Beck. Nick because he had literally given his all for this kid and for Beck because the poor kid had been through enough. Granted he had run off, but that was all he had ever known really. No one could truly blame him.

"Pacing around is not going to make the machines work faster around here, you know." Mia didn't bother to hide the annoyance in her voice.

"Makes me feel a hell of lot better." Warrick grumbled.

Mia glared but she knew, from the lab grapevine, how much this meant to Warrick…and Nick.

The printer beeped and Mia calmly picked up the sheet of paper, ignoring Warrick who nearly dived on top of her.

"DNA on the needle was you boy Beck. I need to tell you this, Warrick. I heard from Jon that the Lorazepam that supposedly came from this needle was in his stomach. Anything injected into the body, especially a fast acting drug like Lorazepam, will not be found in his stomach contents, only in the blood and only for a certain amount of time. So after I swabbed the needle I checked to see if there was blood on it. There was none. It was saliva. The needle was in Beck's mouth."

Warrick stared at Mia for a few minutes, digesting what she had just told him.

"You're about this close to getting kissed." Warrick told her then dashed out of the lab.

"Grissom!" Warrick yelled as he got closer to the supervisor's office, "Hey, Gris!"

Grissom looked up from his desk, the look on his face plainly telling Warrick that he better have news on the case or to get out.

"I found out how he did it. The needle had Beck's saliva on the end of it. He squirted it down Beck's throat. That's how it got in his stomach. Poor kid was already feeling sick and woozy so scaring him and squirting a syringe full of a sedative down his throat probably made him throw most of it back up, leaving us a nice little trail to follow. I'll betcha more than anything that the car he was shoved in had the windows rolled down so he wouldn't yak in the car so we can probably use scent dogs to find him." Warrick rushed out, excited.

"Then what are you waiting for? I'll call the K-9 unit and you drive out to the scene. Meet you there in 10." Grissom grabbed the phone and began to dial while Warrick ran out. There was still a chance Beck was alive.

Beck was alive and damned determined to get the hell out. Though still a little dazed he had managed to find a spot on the rough wooden wall that had a sharp edge. He had wiggled the chair over to it, fortunately a short distance away, and began to rub the rope on his arms on it. When he felt the heat from the friction he knew he was making progress. He ground his teeth together to help distract himself from the pain from his wounded wrists. His eyes flashed with mounting ire at each painful throb. He had had enough. He was going to get out of this or die trying.

Author's note: Once again, I'm sorry this took so frekin' long but now that school's out the only that is in the way of me and my beloved computer is work. However, my mini vacation gave me plenty of time to improve my plot ideas (love forever long flights now) so the rest of this is going to pick up the pace…very very quickly.

-Vanillathunder215


	11. Temperamental

Beck's arms ached. He had been rubbing them against the wall for over half an hour and had only succeeded in making the wall much smoother.

Wait…he wiggled his arms a bit and found the rope to be much looser. He had frayed away much more than he thought, though he couldn't see just how much. Using the back of the chair, the wall and whatever bit his fingers could grab, Beck managed to pull, tug and wiggle the rope off. He groaned with relief as he brought stiff shoulders forward and stretched out his sore arms. He couldn't waste too much time, however, relishing in this small victory. He went quickly after the rope around his legs.

Once free he stood and stretched. The last of the Lorazepam had left his system and he was feeling a bit more energized. Having been in a drug induced sleep had prompted his body to make more blood. He didn't feel so woozy anymore.

"All right, time to blow this Popsicle stand." He muttered to himself and went for the door across the small room. Just as he started to move, the door moved.

Like a bad dream he had had over and over again, the door opened. He felt the rising panic as Kelly Greensborough stepped in, felt the familiar feeling of helplessness. Then, a sudden lurch in his stomach banished all the fear and despair. His anger came back, flooding his mind until everything was lost in a red mist. How DARE he try to do this to him! He was no one's toy! Beck's submissive shrink became an offensive crouch.

Kelly was rather taken aback at the sudden transformation. He had been expecting Beck to immediately cower back like he had been for the past few months. He almost didn't recognize this new Beck, one that was crouched like a panther waiting to attack. Quickly he regained his composure. He was still a half-starved and beaten teen. Kelly could put him back in his place easy. He pulled out another rope and went towards Beck.

Beck no longer felt any pain from his neck or wrists or arms. He could only hear his own heart beat, slamming against his ribs with adrenaline. He felt wired, ready for the attack. When he saw Kelly come for him, he let loose the wild energy and lunged.

Warrick held out a piece of cloth to the dogs. They sniffed long and hard at it, sometimes even licking it a bit. Then their handlers gave them the command to track the scent and they went off, noses high in the air.

"Air scent dogs are different than your conventional scent dogs." One of the handlers explained as his dog, a big German Shepard, paced around in an ever widening circle, "They find the scent in the air, which lasts a lot longer and isn't destroyed by rain or wind or anything. Bloodhounds are great for very recent trails on the ground, but German Shepards, Dobermans and Labs are even better at this."

Warrick nodded as he watched the 3 dogs run around. Suddenly, the Doberman froze, his sleek body rigid, and then he gave a weird howl and took off down the street, the other 2 dogs right behind him.

"Com'on!" his handler yelled, "No time for the cars, they won't get that far ahead of us anyway!"

The 3 handlers and Warrick ran off after the dogs. Grissom had been waiting in the car, wisely and began to follow them. He let the younger men do the running. If one of them happened to get too exhausted to run any further, he was right behind them.

Beck's lunge caught Kelly totally off-guard. The force of Beck's body slamming into him knocked him off his feet and into the door behind him. Beck's knees and fists kept hitting his body, not strong enough to do any serious damage, but enough to prevent him from doing anything as of the moment.

The energy that Beck had been electrified with was fading quickly. Adrenaline never stayed around for very long and Beck's body was still not fully recovered. Faced with a healthy fully grown man, he stood little to no chance. His hits weren't even fazing Kelly anymore as he got over his shock of being knocked over. Soon, he would retaliate and Beck would be in serious trouble.

It came sooner rather than later, one powerful blow across his jaw knocked him backwards. As soon as he hit the ground, Kelly was on him in a flash, reversing the roles. Beck nearly panicked again at finding himself in this particular position again and, with another surge of panicked adrenaline, began to fight back frantically, using his feet, teeth and nails. It wasn't enough and he knew it, but he wasn't going to just lie there.

Warrick felt his breath catch painfully in his chest each time he breathed. He was in good shape, but these dogs were telling him he wasn't in good enough shape to keep up with him. The 3 handlers didn't seem that bothered and it occurred to Warrick that they just might be a little used to chasing their dogs like this.

In other words, they might still have a long while to go.

Grissom checked the speedometer as he drove along behind them. 15mph. Not bad for both man and dog. The dogs could probably go a hack of a lot faster but they were waiting for their human partners to keep up. Grissom smiled to himself and thought how it was a good thing that Warrick had been training for the police marathon again, seeing as how they had come in dead last the last time due to a dead cop on the route.

Quickly as he thought of it, he felt the pang of sadness that Nick might never be able to run in it again. He and Warrick were defiantly the best athletes on the team, poor Greg could never possibly hope to match up to their speed.

Grissom shook his head. No! Nick would find a way to pull himself out of this mess. If anyone could it was Nick. All they could do right now was find Kelly Greensborough, get Beck back, and make sure the pervert responsible would pay for all he had done. Grissom gripped the steering wheel harder. Now to just hope that Beck was alive!

Beck's frantic scrabbling was getting weaker and weaker as his energy gauge ran dangerously on low. He could feel his arms and legs grow leaden and heavy and his breath sob in his throat. As his hits became less and less frequent, Kelly began to get more in. Pretty soon, he was the one doing all the hitting, slamming Beck around until blood flowed from his nose, mouth and ears. Kelly stood up and over Beck's limp body, the only noise heard was his harsh breathing and Beck's panicked gasps.

He turned his head and spat to the side. He no longer felt any need to keep Beck as a "pet" anymore, there just wasn't any attraction left after all that had happened. He just wanted the little brat back to get even with the police. Shooting just one wasn't enough, he wanted to really make them hurt…through Beck. He pulled out the rope from earlier and tied Beck up, kicking him in the ribs hard when he tried to struggle.

Kelly Greensborough was no fool. He knew that the police weren't far behind, somehow, someway, and that he needed to get Beck to the place he had been setting up for the past few days. He had meant to put Beck there all along but now it seemed like fate that it should be used to get back at everyone. He knew he was finished. A cop killer got no mercy anywhere. That didn't mean he couldn't have the last laugh in this sick twisted game that he played.

"Hope you like swimming, you little shit." He said to Beck, who groaned in response. He grabbed Beck and dragged him out to the car, threw him in and quickly drove off. There wasn't much he needed to do and, if he drove fast, he could there and back again in a little less than half an hour; plenty of time to beat the police.

Warrick thought he was going to die. His legs had long since quit threatening to seize up or stop working altogether. Now they were just numb. His lungs felt like they would explode at any time. Even the handlers seemed to be a little jaded. Only the dogs ran on, fresh as ever. In fact, they seemed even more energized by the run. Suddenly a car pulled up next to them.

"Get in! We can follow them in the car!"

"Grissom…how long have…you been following…us?" Warrick gasped.

"Long enough… now get in!"

The four men needed no second bidding as they grabbed the door handles and leaped in on the run, grateful for the rest. The dogs kept on going, noses in the air. Fortunately they were going all the back roads so people and traffic weren't that big a problem.

Despite being exhausted Warrick wished the dogs would go faster. Beck could be in serious danger right now. He didn't know just how serious it was going to be.

45 minutes later the dogs ran into a backyard, baying and howling at a shed. Grissom had radioed for back up a while ago and an armada of squad cars and emergency vehicles stopped in front of the abandoned house. Used to such commotion, the inhabitants of the other houses didn't even bother looking out their windows.

The handlers pulled the dogs back, rewarding them for their hard work, and let the officers do their part.

After announcing themselves they kicked in the flimsy door. No less than 10 flashlights flooded the dark interior of the small shed, revealing Kelly Greensborough sitting in the same chair that Beck had occupied less than an hour ago, calmly waiting for the police.

"If you came looking for me, here I am. If you came looking for Beck, sorry…you just missed him. Don't bother asking me where he is, I aint talking." He smiled at them, infuriating them, "I think it seems fair, don't you? You have my friend and about to get my freedom, so you had to pay with your friend and your supposed 'victim'. Don't let that rat fool you… he can be pretty nasty when he wants to be. I think it's time to go gentlemen." He stood, turned around and held his hands behind his back, waiting to be cuffed.

Unable to do anything else, the police cuffed him and none-too-gently shoved him out and into a squad car. They had made sure to bring a car known as the "Brown Bomber" with them. It was the oldest, nosiest and smelliest car they had, so old that it should belong in a museum, but they used when they picked up suspects they particularly didn't like to give them a hell of a ride back to the station. The fact that the Bomber couldn't go faster than 35mph gave them a sadistic pleasure on the side.

Warrick poked around but couldn't find a single thing that suggested that Beck had even been here other than the dogs sniffing eagerly at the floor and the chair. The Doberman went outside and began to bark again. Everyone followed him around the back of the caved in garage and found a beat-up old Explorer parked in the back. The Doberman jumped up sniffed eagerly at the back door, his stumpy tail wagging.

Brass went over and pulled the door open, cautiously pushing the big black dog back when he tried to get in, then inspected the interior of the truck.

"Hey Warrick, I think the dog just solve your problem for you. Come check this out."

Warrick stepped closer. Inside the car were small blood pools, none of them bigger that a closed fist, but big enough. Warrick didn't know that they were from Beck's mouth and nose from just an hour earlier, but he had a notion that wasn't far from the truth. He pulled out a swab and rolled it in one of the pools, noting that it came away soaked. Beck had been there after all.

Meanwhile, Beck was starting to come around. He was getting awfully sick of this getting knocked out and waking up in a different place every time really quickly. Speaking of which… where the heck was he now? This time, the light came from above him in a tunnel like shape. Since he figured you don't feel pain or had a headache when you died, he wasn't headed for heaven through the tunnel of light.

He was lying on a hard stone floor, beyond that he couldn't see a thing. One thing stood out; it smelled worse than hell. He sat up slowly, hoping to get above the smell. Suddenly a harsh grating noise filled the air, like metal against concrete. His eyes widened as a sudden realization hit him.

"Ok, one more time before you get to cool your heels back with some none-too-sweet guys in lock-up…where is Beck?" Brass shoved his face in Kelly Greensborough's. The sneer on his face was partly due for his feelings for the man in front of him and partly due to the stink emanating from the ugly brown car.

"I'll tell you one thing, and only one. Since I'm going down for killing that cop, it doesn't make a difference whether or not I say anything. However I'm feeling generous enough to give you a clue. You have 3 hours to get to him, starting…" Just then, his watch began to beep as the alarm went off, "now."

-Author's note: See? I told you this would start to pick up the pace. Sorry there's no Nick in this chapter. He'll get in here again soon, don't worry. I promise I won't leave ya'll with these cliffhangers for very long…not very heeheehee, jk! Read and enjoy!

-Vanillathunder215


	12. Time Crisis

"You have 3 hours to find him…if not, he'll die. Kinda like what happened to you guys 2 years ago, huh?"

Kelly Greensborough's words echoed in everyone's mind, driving them crazy. What he said about this whole case relating to Nick's being buried alive had hit a nerve. Especially since he had shot Nick.

Brass glanced at his watch. It had been about 10 minutes since Kelly had announced they had a time limit. He pressed his foot down harder on the gas pedal, pushing his protesting car even faster. He had to get this stuff back to the lab as soon as possible to see if the CSIs could find any scrap of evidence that would point them to Beck.

Back at the hospital, Nick twitched in his sleep and began to moan softly. Catherine sat up and began to check him over for anything that might have led to his discomfort. Finding none, she decided that he was having a nightmare. Probably added to his list, Catherine thought bitterly, remembering that he said he still had nightmares of when he was 9…and from Nigel Crane, and Amy Hendler and Walter Gordon.

Alisha came back in. She had been spending most of her time with them, but every so often she was called away. This time, however, she had been asking about Beck. Catherine looked up at her,

"Did they find him?"

"No, but the cop out there doesn't know much and I'm not calling anyone looking for him in case something is wrong. Ah, Beck…where have you gone?!" Alisha groaned, plopping down into a chair, pulling at a lock of dark hair that had slid free.

"Beck? I thought he was here."

Alisha and Catherine both jumped at the sound of Nick's rough voice next to them. Neither one of the them had noticed him wake up.

"Ah…uh, well…" Catherine stammered, unsure whether or not to tell him in his present condition, not wanting to upset him.

"He ran off. I think he blames himself for what happened to you." Alisha said, "I'm not sure exactly what happened but Beck got himself into trouble again. Warrick, Brass, Greg and Grissom are on it so I'm positive he'll be ok. I only worry because if it weren't for bad luck…Beck wouldn't have any at all."

Alisha had no idea how agonizingly close to the truth her words were. Only a few seconds after he had heard the metal grinding against concrete, water had come gushing into Beck's small prison; murky brown water that didn't smell like roses. Trash and other debris swirled around in it, hitting Beck as it rushed by only to slam into the far wall.

Quickly pushing himself up from the water, he tried to scream for help, hoping against all hope that someone would hear him over the roar of the water. It was all in vain. Either no one was around or no one could hear him. Beck tried to jump up and grab at the grate that was above his head, but he couldn't reach. It was just too high and the water held him down as it rose to his ankles. He was beyond feeling panic now. Water slid down his face like the tears that were beyond him. Maybe he was finally beyond hope.

(2.42.23)

Since Warrick couldn't bear being around Kelly Greensborough without the accompanying feeling of wanting to beat the shit out of him, Greg was given the task of processing him. He literally flew through the job, not wanting to be near him anymore than Warrick. He glanced up at the cop by the door and could tell by the way he was stroking the grip of his loosed gun, what he thought of the man as well.

Greg gathered up his stuff and evidence and left. He didn't want to seem as if he was scared or anything but he really couldn't get out of there fast enough. He could see why Beck was so scared of the man. It was the look in his eyes that scared Greg; shark eyes, cold and utterly devoid of any emotion.

He went into an empty lab and began to go through the man's stuff, looking for evidence that could indicate where Beck was. Grissom poked his head in as he went by.

"Remember, Greg, if Kelly was telling the truth then we only have about 2hours and 45 minutes to find Beck. We are going to have to work fast for this one." He reminded Greg.

Greg nodded and turned back to his evidence. This case reminded him way too much of Nick when he was buried alive. Only difference was that they didn't have a live web cam of Beck slowly dying of whatever Kelly had put him through.

Warrick came in, still looking like a murderous thunderstorm but a bit more in control of himself. Silently they worked side by side. Warrick picked up Kelly's shoes. He noticed that there was something stuck in between the treads. He pulled it out with tweezers and held it out for Greg to see.

"What does that look like to you?" he asked.

"Looks like bark or something similar to it." Greg said, looking closely. "You know, if we're lucky, it might belong to a plant that only grows in a certain area."

Warrick nodded and began to set up a slide for the bark. Greg went back to the shoes and noticed something else with the bark. He held the shoe up and sniffed.

"Greg, what are you doing?" Warrick asked.

"This smells, and I'm not talking about toe cheese smell or dog crap. There's some chemical on here. I'm going to give this to Hodges. It's been a while since I've given him something that smells this good." Greg gave a brave stab at a true smile and went out.

Warrick shook his head and turned his attention back to the microscope. The bark was a brownish-purple and seemed to have the same consistency of reptile scales. Even more curious was the little crystal deposits along the sides.

"Salt? What the heck is salt doing on a piece of bark?" Warrick muttered to himself.

Suddenly he remembered something. A long time ago, he and Nick were out working a case in the desert; the dead body of yet another hiker was found near what used to be an oasis. He even remembered the exact conversation he had had with Nick.

_"Not much of an oasis anymore." He had noted, looking at the cracks in the hard-packed ground. "Poor guy probably thought he could find water here and when he found there wasn't, gave up."_

"_Not the desert's fault for being a desert this time, though." Nick said, "See all those scrubby lookin' trees around what was probably a pool? Those are Salt Cedars. We have those back in Texas and lemme tell ya, they are a pain in the ass. They only grow around water and t hey can suck a creek dry in less than a year."_

Warrick remembered laughing at Nick for suggesting the thought of water sucking plants but when he looked it up later, he found that everything Nick had said was true. This bark he had now looked awfully a lot like what he had seen out there.

Quickly he pulled up a plant database on the computer and looked up Salt Cedars. He clicked on the option for close up of bark and it was an exact match. So the last place Kelly Greensborough had been was around Salt Cedars, which meant he had been around water. Warrick jumped up and ran to go find Brass and Grissom.

(2:03:27)

"I found Salt Cedar bark in the soles on Kelly's shoes. Now, a certain Texas boy once told me that these things only grow near water and a good amount of it." Warrick told Brass and Grissom. "Judging by its color, it's a fully grown plant but judging how dry it is, it's already sucked most of its water supply down. If we can find the place where this boy came from, we can probably find Beck."

"So you want us to go through all these maps and mark places that Salt Cedars would most likely grow?" Brass asked incredulously.

"It's all we have for right now. Greg sent something off to trace but we need to get moving now. There's only about 2 hours left!" Warrick whined.

"Talk about a flashback." Brass muttered, "Hey I know a botanologist who could give us a bit more on this. Lemme go give him a call." Brass left.

"Warrick, you realize that there is a lot more waterway systems in Vegas and the surrounding desert than most people realize?" Grissom asked gently.

"Yeah, I know." Warrick slumped. "But I can't let Beck down…or Nick. Hell, he gave up everything for this kid. I can't let that slide."

Beck stood in the very middle of the drain, shivering. The water now lapped at the top of his thighs, making him very uncomfortable and freezing cold. He tried to stand still, hoping nothing would touch him as it swirled around. He thought he had seen a rat plop into the water, but he wasn't all that sure. Dead or alive, he couldn't stand rats. Being trapped in a concrete cell with dirty water that was promising to fill his grave was bad, but with a rat…it was unbearable.

Something bumped into his leg and held on. Had anyone been outside the drain, they would have heard a scream coming from the grate. However, it just echoed out into the empty desert.

Author's note: If anyone happens to be a plant scientist out there and finds something incorrect about my thing on Salt Cedars, I apologize; apparently I'm not a plant person (in fact I have a "Black Thumb.") Anyhow, I promise there will be a bit more of Nick (after, I said in my summary that Nick would help in the end…) Once again, thank you to all my reviewers!

-Vanillathunder215


	13. Toxic Dreams

At Catherine and Alisha's urging Nick fell back asleep. Actually he didn't need the second bidding, he was perfectly willing to go back to the place were being paralyzed didn't matter. He didn't need the use of his legs in the deep dark oblivion. The only down side was that now he had to put up with the dreams. The same dreams that had haunted him most of his life, but with yet another demented twist to them.

This time was no different. As soon as he had drifted off, he dreamed. However, something seemed a little different.

_It was dark and cold. Fortunately he couldn't see how close the walls were around him. If he had, he would have started to panic. However, the first thing he noticed was the smell. It reminded him of the many times he had to go diving into a sewer or dumpster for a case. It was the same smell, he was sure of it. Then he noticed a light shining above him. _

_What? Am I dead? He wondered. Is this the Tunnel of Light? No, I don't think that it would have a grate of sorts over it. _

_A thick metal grate was over his head, blocking his way to freedom. He reached up to touch it and noticed that his wrist was circled with open sores, just like Beck's were. Quickly he looked at the other and saw it was the same. Feeling a little unsettled he reached up to feel his neck and felt the gauze now wet and sodden. What the heck was going on? Why did he have the same wounds as Beck did?_

_He felt the intense cold all of the sudden. His teeth chattered and goose bumps rose up along his arms, legs and neck. He realized that he was soaking wet. _

_"Please…please help. I don't want to die, I really don't. Please…please…" A voice echoed through Nick's mind. He recognized it as Beck's. _

_"Where are you? Beck! You gotta give me something." Nick spoke out loud to the cold air. Then he realized he WAS Beck…or at least, wherever Beck was. He was in Beck's place._

_"Cold…wet. Rats…oh god the rats are everywhere. Get them OFF ME!" Nick clamped his hands over his ears at the scream "Can't reach it…freedom so close. Save me please!"_

_Just then water began to gush around him, quickly rising up his legs and stopping at the top of his chest. It was freezing cold water, too cold for anyone to remain in it for very long without getting Hypothermia. _

_Nick suddenly woke to the realization of just how close the walls were. He immediately froze up, feeling the claustrophobia tightening his chest, making him pant for breath. He felt dizzy and the room with the cold water began to spin. Something bumped into his legs, scrambling to get a grip on him. He couldn't move from the cold or the fear. Something with sharp little claws began to climb up his leg. He screamed out loud. _

_"Beck!"_

_"Nick!"_

"Nick!"

At the sound of his name Nick's eyes flew open. He was shivering, still feeling the cold from the water, sweat pouring down his face and dripped off his arms. He instinctively tried to sit up but a sharp sudden pain raced through his body and forced him back down a heck of a lot more effectively than Alisha or Catherine.

"Oh God, oh God…" he moaned throwing an arm over his face, blocking out the harsh light.

"Nick…it's ok, it was only a dream." Catherine tried to calm him.

"No…you don't get it." He mumbled. He knew that he had pretty much had a premonition about Beck, but how the heck to tell Catherine…or Alisha? The last time he had done something like this, like with Cassie, everyone had thought he had finally gone over the deep end. He knew in his heart that he wasn't crazy, but no one else could know that for sure.

"What? What don't we get?" Alisha crossed her arms.

"It wasn't one of my normal dreams, none of the regular nightmares." Nick hesitated, unsure whether or not it was wise to continue.

"Go on."

"Look, I dreamed I was Beck. I was in a sewer drain with no way out and water was rising pretty fast. If I knew any better, he…I, would have drowned if I hadn't gotten out of there fast." He said it as quickly and as matter-of-fact as he could. He was, after all, a scientist. He wasn't supposed to be basing any theories off of dreams or gut-feelings.

Catherine froze. She knew of Nick's feelings towards any of his younger victims, probably better than anyone. However, she had just talked to Grissom. What he had told her and Nick's dream… It couldn't just be coincidence. Could it?

She excused herself and, while Alisha calmed Nick down, called Grissom back.

(1:36:03)

"Sewers? Are you sure?" Grissom asked, "Well, we have nothing else as of the moment so we might as well try. Besides, while I don't really like admitting it; Nick has been right about these things in the past and he and Beck seem to have a lot of things in common right about now, so let's just try it." He hung up and turned back to Warrick, "Map out all the sewer lines. Nicky had a hunch of sorts."

"He may be down but never out, that's my boy." Warrick mumbled and immediately began to mark all sewer lines.

Brass walked back in at the moment.

"Sorry guys. Salt Cedar is just too common to accurately pin point where a sample of it came from. I have no idea what else to do."

"In that case, I'm just in time to save the day." Came an all-too-familiar voice. David Hodges swaggered into the room, holding the results from the substance that Greg had found on Kelly Greensborough's shoe. Greg came in after him, looking a little peeved. Obviously he had tried to get Hodges to tell him the results but Hodges, being Hodges, wouldn't tell unless allowed to give a show.

"Thanks to my ingenious work while…"

"HODGES WE HAVE ONLY AN HOUR AND A HALF TO FIND THIS KID BEFORE HE DIES! SHUT UP AND GIVE THE RESULTS!" Warrick roared.

Totally taken aback, Hodges immediately rattled off his findings,

"Traces found on the shoe is Bromine, a rust colored toxic liquid. It has a particular odor, which is why Greg noticed it so quickly as it is only slightly more offensive than a dog's fart. You can only dispose of this stuff by the way of hazardous waste as it is very corrosive, so dumping is illegal. I went ahead and brought up all illegal dumping sites in the past several years because this stuff will linger for a while."

As Hodges scuttled off, Warrick rubbed his hands over his face. He would make it up to the tech later…after Beck was safe. He really hadn't meant to scream like that but enough was enough and a kid's life _was_ on the line here. He glanced down at the sheet of paper with all the illegal dumping sites.

He felt his jaw drop as he looked at the long list covering the page in 12 pt. font. How would they ever find Beck in time based on this?

"Look, there are 4 of us. If Nick is right, then we only have to find something that has Salt Cedar and Bromine all around it. Oh, and apparently we'll know if we have the right place because we are looking for a place where the water is flowing." Grissom said. "If we want to beat this psycho, we better get to it."

(0:49:59)

40 minutes later they managed to pinpoint a place, a closed down section of sewer about 25 minutes away.

"You know…if we aren't positive about this and we happen to be wrong. Beck's dead." Brass said.

"Then hope to God that we aren't. This is our one shot at it. Let's make it count." Greg jumped up and ran out of the room. The other 3 men smiled at him and rushed out after him.

Beck gave up trying to keep his head above water and was now treading water. He had finally managed to fling off his unwelcome passenger and it now lay stunned in the water. Beck fervently hoped it was dead, but tried to avoid thinking of death. He did not want to die in this stinking water.

The only good thing he had found was that, when he started to tread water, he had started to warm up and his shivering had ceased a little. What he wasn't aware of was that he was already deeply hypothermic. He was conscious only because of adrenaline pumping through his body. He was more in danger of dying from hypothermia than from the rising water. In reality, he had less time than just the 50 minutes remaining.


	14. Cold Hard Truth

To any observer, the convoy of police cars and CSIs would have seemed to have passed by going about the same speed as a roller coaster. Indeed it certainly felt like one inside the cars, but no one was stopping to take the time to enjoy the sensation or check the speedometer. Everyone had an eye on the clock as they raced towards the closed section on sewer.

(0:18:27)

Beck was less than a foot from the ceiling of the hole. He knew that there wasn't much time before he ran out of room all together, just how much he wasn't sure. His brain couldn't seem to think straight. He was starting to feel sluggish, his arms and legs leaden. He really wanted to sleep, just to fall asleep and not wake up for a long, long time. He shook his head. He wasn't going to give in that easily…maybe.

Cars slid to a stop and people poured out of cars. Everyone stood still a moment, taking in the area in disbelief. The area was an entire station of sewer pipes. There were many grates and man holes and more than one control room. How on earth would they manage to find Beck in time? The search suddenly took a whole new sick and twisted turn.

"OK, we're looking for a spot where there might be gate controls and running water. Finding a teenage boy floating around in water would help too." Brass called out. Everyone fanned out and began to check holes and grates for any sign of Beck. Brass closed his eyes and did something he hadn't done in a while; he prayed.

Warrick ran around in a near panic. 15 minutes. Good God…it WAS like 2 summers ago; searching for Nick who was trapped in an underground hell. Nick had had ants, Beck had rats. Nick had a gun for a quick escape; Beck only had to hold himself underwater. Both had had little time left, both in danger of a death other than the one intended. Nick had almost given up; Beck was very close to it.

(0:08:49)

Greg stopped running, clutching a stitch in his side. Taking a moment to rest, he looked around. To his left was nothing but a bunch of old, dead scrubby looking trees, long since dead from the drought. The sight of them made Greg stand up straight. Could this be the Salt Cedar that they found in Kelly Greensborough's shoes? Greg then took a deep breath in through his nose. Though slightly drowned out by the stench of the sewers and the breeze, Greg could detect the distinctive smell of Bromine. This had to be the place! But there were so many holes and grates around him and not enough time to look in them all. There had to be another…what was that? Greg edged a little closer to his right, head cocked, listening. YES! It was! The sound of running water, though not the roar he had expected. He ran over to a nearby grate and looked down.

"Hey! HEY! Over here, I found him!" He screamed at the top of his lungs, trying his damnedest to not swallow his tongue at what he saw.

(0:07:01)

The cold had penetrated Beck to the core. He was no longer shivering, but just floating limply in the water. He could now easily reach the grate by lifting his arm a little but he no longer had the energy.

The roar of the water had fallen to a mute flow like that of a river when the water level had risen above the pipe. Because of that, Beck heard Greg's shouts. He summoned up the last of his energy and reached up and grabbed the bars of the grate. He felt a hand wrap around his, reassuring him that this was indeed real and not a hallucination.

"Hang on, Beck. We're gonna get you outta here." He heard from somewhere from above him. He desperately wanted to believe the voice, but how could he when he was still in the water with a heavy iron grate blocking him?

Warrick skidded to a stop next to Greg, who had his hand over the bar of a grate. No, he was holding on to a hand…Beck's hand! The flood of relief was quickly replaced by alarm. The sides of the grate were welded shut. Beck had about 5 minutes before he would drown. There wasn't enough time to get through a welded grate in 5 minutes.

Warrick crouched next to Greg and looked down at Beck. That was when he realized that they had less than their allotted time. Beck's face was pale and his lips were turning blue. When Warrick touched his hand, it felt like he was touching ice. Hypothermia at it's very best.

"Brass, Gris!" he screamed as they got closer. "We have a seriously cold problem here!"

"What? Pull that grate off and get him out of there!" Brass yelled back.

"I can't, the grate is welded shut!" Beck closed his eyes when he heard that. At those words, any spark of hope that he held onto slithered out of his body and floated away into the cold water. His hand slid off the bar and he started to sink.

"NO! No, Beck, no! Just hang on; I swear you'll get out of there, please hang on!" Greg screamed. He thrust his arms through the bars and grabbed Beck's arms, holding him up. "Hurry up guys! He's not going to last much longer!" he begged.

Brass, Grissom and a few other officers dropped down next to Warrick and Greg.

"Good God…" Grissom whispered, "He's not going to drown at this rate…he's going to freeze to death." By now, Beck looked more like a corpse than a still living body. The only thing that indicated he was still alive was his lips moving and his eyelids twitching.

One of the officers ran his finger over the welding. His cousin happened to be in construction so he knew a thing or two about welding and this looked a little out of the ordinary in terms of welding.

"You know, I don't think he spent very much time on this." He said thoughtfully, "I don't think it even goes all the way through the bars. It's not straight and in some places it's not even melted. I think that you can pull this baby off with the towing cable on the car." He looked up and beckoned for the others to bring one of the cars. "Only problem is; you're going to have to let him go. Can he hang on for a few more minutes?"

"We don't have a few minutes any more. Just let me know when you're going to pull and then I'll let go. As soon as I do, pull it off cuz he's going to sink." Greg said. The officer nodded and hurried to get the cable set up.

"You know, it might be better if he does go under when they pull the grate off. That way, it won't hit him in the head or injure him in anyway. A few seconds under won't kill him. Someone just has to be ready to dive on in after him as soon as it's clear." Grissom noted.

(0:00:45)

Beck heard voices but they swam around him like the debris in the water, unable to make any sense out of them. He was aware of the grate right in front of his face, his nose gently brushing it. It wouldn't be long now. Greg was still holding his frozen body up, but if he let go, Beck would too. Something chinked against the bars, making him flinch. The sound was too sharp and sudden for his sluggish, dying brain to handle. He just wanted it to be over.

"3…2…1 Let GO!"

Beck felt Greg's arms slid away from him and, unable to keep himself afloat any longer, he slid under.

As Greg leaped back he saw Beck disappear into the black depths of the water. He watched the car rev backwards, straining to pull the grate off. If this didn't work, it was all over.

Suddenly, there was a loud groaning noise which rose to a shriek as the grate pulled free of its welding and popped off.

Before anyone could say anything, Warrick had thrown his shirt off and was in the water. He was no lifeguard, but he wasn't trying to rescue a kicking screaming 6 year-old who had lost their footing in the deeper end, but a near-frozen teenage boy who was now passively drowning.

Willing hands pulled Beck's body out of the grate and laid him out on the ground. As Warrick was pulled out, the water overflowed out of the hole. They may have pulled Beck out before time ran out…but were they still too late?

Warrick turned away as someone began to perform CPR on the still body. He just couldn't bear to watch if Beck took his last breath. Seeing dead bodies was one thing, but watching them die was something Warrick hoped never to see.

"He's still breathing!" Warrick heard someone shout. He nearly collapsed with relief at those words. He looked over at Beck. Blue eyes drilled into Warrick's. Then Beck gave Warrick a rare smile. Despite his earlier despair, Beck couldn't help but fight.

Some hours later, Brass went to go talk with Beck. He had some nasty bruises on his torso from his fight earlier with Greensborough and a few broken ribs, not to mention a bad infection from 3 hours in filthy water, his wounds he had first come in with and severe hypothermia, which was by far the easiest to treat. He had been cleaned up, re-stitched and warmed up. He would be ok. But Brass still had to ask the burning question.

"Why?"

"What's tomorrow?" Beck stared at the ceiling. Call it a quirk but he had a thing for staring at the ceiling whenever he talked with someone.

"Ok, please don't play that game…" Brass warned.

"I'm serious; what's tomorrow?"

"Tuesday June 26. Something special about that date?"

"Would you still have convicted both those guys if I had turned 18 before they went to court?" Beck's gaze never wavered from the ceiling.

(Later…)

"So that's why. He was scared, just like Alisha said, but for a different reason. He did also think that he could keep Greensborough away from our guys so no one else would get hurt, but he was also thinking that we couldn't convict either one of those sickos because he's going to turn 18 tomorrow, therefore being released from the state and becoming independent. What eh doesn't realize is that, that is only true for a convict running away to Mexico. Turn 18 there and the USA can't arrest them… nice, huh?" Brass finished.

Grissom, Greg, Warrick and Brass had gone to see Nick, Alisha and Catherine and filled them in on what happened.

"You know, I completely forgot that his birthday was in June. I was thinking that it was in November, Chase's birthday." Alisha shook her head.

"So…is anyone going to charge him for running away?" Greg asked hesitantly.

"Do it and I'll bail him out before he even gets in a cell." Alisha's eyes narrowed.

"Whoa, slow down there." Brass held up his hands to fend her off, "I didn't even put in the file that he ran off. It's implicated but the jury is only going to hear what was done to him. Most of the cops think it's cool that Beck tried to lead Greensborough away from us. Don't worry; he's got friends here to back him up." Alisha visibly relaxed.

Everyone got up then, telling Nick they promised to visit the next morning and telling Alisha goodbye. When they were gone, leaving them alone, Nick turned to Alisha.

"What's going to happen to Beck now? He's got nothing and he's 18…he'll get nothing."

Alisha was quiet a second as she leaned back on the bed so she was lying next to Nick. She smiled as she heard and felt Nick's heart give a double throb as she did so. She tilted her head back and gave him a quick kiss before answering.

"Just leave it to me…I think I have got an idea."

Author's note- What? Think I would have ended it here? Endings should be the best part of the story and I still have one more twist (or 2 or 3) left to throw into this story. –evil laugh–

-Vanillathunder215


	15. A Second Chance at Life

Alisha was able to carry out the first part of her plan, which she called "Phase 1", almost immediately. Since Beck was now independent, he was free to go where he pleased…if he had anywhere to go.

That was when Alisha jumped in. She took him home to her house when he was discharged, where he continued to recover, both physically and psychologically, over the remainder of the summer. He wasn't alone, however.

It never entered anyone's mind to let Nick go home by himself. Most previous attempts to "baby-sit" him in his own home did not go over very well. Any other time, everyone would have been at a loss at what to do, but this time they had help.

"I'm taking off time to look after Beck until the end of summer. Taking Nick home with me won't make much a difference. Besides, I'm immune to his stubborn attitude." Alisha shrugged. So Nick and Beck spent the rest of the hot summer months slowly recovering.

The weeks that followed held surprises for everyone. Underneath the scared and scarred appearance, Beck was really the friendly out-going teen that Alisha had insisted existed from the start. He and Nick, already closely connected, became even closer friends. Through Alisha and Nick, Beck began to shake off the effects of his long torture. The day he finally laughed, making everyone in the room stare for a moment before laughing with him Alisha knew that it might be time to put her "Phase 2" into action.

Nick, on the other hand, had a bit of a longer recovery. Dead determined to not spend the rest of life paralyzed he literally forced himself to move again. One morning he woke up to an agonizing cramp in his calf muscle. He sat up quickly, trying to massage the tense muscle out, accidentally bumping into Alisha.

"Hey, Nick," she said as he breathed a sigh of relief as the cramp eased, "You know that you can't feel cramps in a paralyzed muscle…or get one for that matter?"

The day that Beck had laughed, was also the day that Nick started to get around using crutches. It would take awhile, but he would defy everything that the doctors (except Alisha) had said; he would walk again just like he had all his life without any aid.

No one knew exactly what Alisha was up to in her little plan or Beck, least of all Beck. She never let on or answered any questions about it. Well, almost no one. Nick knew about it but Alisha had trusted that stubborn nature of his to keep his mouth shut, a trust well placed.

Frustrated and desperately curious, Beck retreated…for now. He knew she was making a lot of phone calls to someone, but she had gotten crafty and used only her cell phone and erased her phone log afterward. Finally she went up to him and told him what she had been up to the whole time.

All the phone calls she had made had been to Chase's parents (who, if you remember, are really close to her) about finding Beck a home. They knew that Beck was far too independent to live with anyone. He knew who his parents were and didn't want to have to put anyone else in that place. Chase's parents knew that so Chase's father had found a place not far from where Beck used to work and close to the high school where he would finish his senior year. They had all known how bad Beck wanted to go back to the only place he had ever considered "home".

As she told him this, it didn't totally register in Beck's mind that he was going home…to his own home, his place. When it did he sat staring, stunned, at her a few seconds before giving the biggest, genuine grin she had ever seen on him. Later, when he was alone, Beck let himself cry. For once, just maybe, life would go his way.

A few weeks later, Alisha and Nick told Beck goodbye and watched as he disappeared into the heavy crowd at the airport. In a few hours, he would be home and hopefully on to make a life for himself.

Nick shifted his weight and put an arm around Alisha's shoulders.

"Come on, let's go home." He said, "He'll be fine now."

"Oh my God, I hope so." Alisha sniffed, brushing a stray tear away, "If anyone needs a good break in life, it's him."

"Hey! What about me?" Nick teased, mockingly out-raged.

"What about you? You already got your good break." Alisha admonished as they headed for the doors, "You got me."

"I guess I'll have to settle for that then, huh?"

"I guess you better."

(Several hours later)

"Ok, so you're alright then? Good, tell everyone I said "hi and love you" for me ok? You take care of yourself, PLEASE! Ok bye." Alisha put down her cell phone and turned back to Nick, who was lying next to her on the bed. "Obviously Beck. He's ok."

"Good." Nick murmured.

"Hey! Don't you fall asleep on me now!" Alisha rolled over on top of him, leaning on his bare chest, "I aint finished yet."

"You know what?" Nick asked as he arched his back and rolled so he was on top of her, "I think I'm going to enjoy this second chance at life."

-Author's note; well, that's all folks…for this one. I don't know about you but I smell a sequel to this. Anyway, I hope you enjoyed this. This was my first ever fic and it turned out pretty good. I want to thank everyone who left a review, without ya'll I probably would have stopped and quit a while back. You guys kept me going. Thank you and good night!

-Vanillathunder215


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